Consequences
by Ranico
Summary: Undertale is only a video game, right? An escape from a hectic life. But when a young woman is dragged through time and space into another universe, she learns her actions had very real consequences on the people now surrounding her. Can she make her actions right and find forgiveness, or will the weight of her guilt crush her as she fights to find her place in this new world?
1. Chapter 1: The Machine

**A/N: **So… welcome to my first fan fiction. This story is also on AO3 under the same title and pen name. I've got a plan. I've got a direction. The ending is written… I just gotta get there, and hopefully it won't be terrible along the way. Well, the events might be terrible, but I hope the writing is okay. xD

The idea stuck in my head and I needed to get it out. I'm not saying it's perfect, but I really wanted to go for it. I'm always happy for helpful critique and feedback. If on the other hand you're here to tell me how much you hate _Undertale_ or stories "like this" then… I'm gonna ignore you, 'cause why the hell are you reading it? _Pfft. Troll_.

(**Papyrus:** A HELPFUL NOTE, HUMANS: FLAMES ARE NOT BENEFICIAL NOR DO THEY ENCOURAGE IMPROVEMENT!)

This is not intended as a romantic story, though if you squint there might be some. Especially later. My focus is on the hurt/comfort/angst side of things.  
It will be pretty OC/Sans-centric. If this goes well, then… maybe a sequel. And hey, maybe some romance if that happens. But probably not. -epic shrug of no idea-

**Warnings:** Expect language on a fairly regular basis. Usually mild, but it may very well be stronger in later chapters. Chapters will have warnings posted at the top for anything specific. If there needs to be a rating change later on, then so be it. There will be heaps of self-loathing at some point. Also. Destruction. Horror. But mostly angst.

**Credit Where Credit is Due:** _Undertale_ and its wonderful concept, world, and characters were created by the marvelous Toby Fox. I'm just using it as my playground. The writing is cathartic for me. Other than a small handful of my own characters, nothing belongs to me.

**Inspirations:** A while back a read a story about a girl from our world getting trapped in her favorite story. It was—and still is—a "self-insert" of sorts (or… someone-insert, anyway!) done right. If you're a fan of stories where people from the "real world" end up in a story, or you like _Death Note_, totally check out **The Forever Faithful Fan by Satchelle.** Her writing is excellent and her characters are compelling.

In the mean time, thank you for bearing with me while I figure this out. I have almost no idea what I'm doing. xD

–Rani

**Update 1/21/20:** For those who read this story when it was first published, I've been working on refining older chapters even as I work on new ones. I hope they are improved and help with immersion into the story. Have a lovely day!

* * *

_Looking back, I still wonder how any of this happened. What made me so special? It still feels like a waking dream… like I should shake myself awake at any moment and be back home. But I never do. Every time I open my eyes I find myself returned to the same story. The same fiction._

_I just wanted to be… happy._

_I never wanted to hurt anybody._

_I started writing my story down because it's becoming harder and harder for me to tell what's real and what isn't. Maybe, when this is all over, at least one person will know. One person will remember._

_So thank you, dear reader, and welcome to the moment everything changed._

[oOo]

The machine was a hulking monstrosity of wires, hoses, and metal. It took up most of the space in his small workshop, leaving just enough room for him to maneuver around it on either side. Sans huffed as he extracted himself from the side panel he'd been working on. He never imagined he'd be under the hood again after coming to the Surface, but here he was, wrench in hand. The skeleton scratched his brow with the back of his wrist as a wistful smile flit past his teeth.

He adjusted another bolt before checking the magi-flux capacitor and its connecting hoses one last time; they were tightened and secured. Ready to go. Only then did he replace its metal siding and, with a satisfied hum, gave the old machine a quick pat with his phalanges as he took a step back to observe his handiwork.

_All that's left is to start her up…_

Sans glanced at the front panel, glasses askew on his nasal bone. _Papyrus is gonna have a fit when he sees this mess._ Good thing his brother preferred not to come down into the workshop. He chuckled to himself as he looked down at the oil spots on his tee shirt. _Heh. At least it's black_. Still, when laundry day came… well, he would face his brother's wrath a hundred times over—and then some—if this worked. Hell, he'd take every single one of his brother's rants for the next _century_ if this worked. If his equations were correct, all it would take was the press of a button to secure the rest of his—and every monster's—future.

He would secure this timeline.

No more Resets. No more alternate realities. No more dreadful déjà vu, knowing another timeline bit the dust. No more lost futures.

No more _what-ifs_ or _could-have-beens_.

No more sudden shifts to the left or right, like time had been shoved by a schoolyard bully.

No more warnings buzzing his phone in the middle of the night. No more whispers about anomalies detected. No more nightmares.

If this worked, then…

There'd be a permanent, happy, future for him and his brother. For his kid. For every monster who ever lived Underground.

Sans hummed to himself. He placed the wrench down with a _clang_ on the metal countertop behind him before turning to the machine's interface. The old green-tinted screen had been salvaged from the Underground's dump over three decades ago; it may have been dated, but it served its purpose. Coordinates and equations blinked and shifted, sensing every fluctuation in the temporal field around it… sensing every possibility, every hole, every threat. His fingers flew over the keys just below the screen.

It'd taken him months to isolate the string of numbers. Even longer to have the machine ready again. Longer still for him to run the simulations. He had to know every possible outcome.

He remembered the first buzz of his phone, warning of something imminent. A powerful flux somewhere in the timeline. _This_ timeline. _His_ timeline. An _Anomaly_. Somewhere out there. _The Anomaly._ Something bigger and stronger than anything he'd ever seen before. It made spacetime wobble and stretch—made time bend when it was only ever meant to branch—and threatened to snap his entire reality apart. Threatened to end Time itself.

Sans couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't. Not here. Not now. Not again. He wouldn't see the last decade of his life thrown away—he wouldn't let this entire timeline end up thrown away—just because some uncaring entity decided it wanted to toy with his life.

Whatever was capable of doing this to his timeline… _it was out there_. His machine could pick up on it, detect its presence. It was something real, quantifiable. And if it could be detected by something like his machine, then maybe he could do something about it after all. Isolate it. Remove it. Wherever it resided, whether in his own universe or one next to it—or somewhere else entirely—his machine gave him a chance at stopping the Anomaly for good.

He just had to enter the coordinates.

_Okay_. All that remained was to push the metaphorical _big red button_. Sans let out a shaky breath as his index finger hovered over the "enter" key.

This was it. The moment he'd been working toward over the last several months. The moment that could save all of monsterkind… or send it back Underground.

_If_ it worked…

_What's the worst that could happen?_

Condensation formed along his brow. "Show time…" he murmured, finger slamming down before he could change his mind. Sans swallowed hard and watched as the screen flickered and information started flying by so fast he couldn't read it.

_Coordinates accepted. Calculating…_

_You could wake up back in Snowdin._

But it was a risk he'd take if it meant there was never another Reset. If it meant there was no more danger at the End of Time.

The machine hummed to life, lights and buttons flashing as its processors started up and the magic began to flow. The entire workshop filled with its overpowering scent. The whirr of the cooling fan kicked to life a moment later, followed closely by the healthy _k-chunka-chunk_ of the motors as the machine started roaring full-force.

Sans grinned. "Atta girl!" Everything was running perfectly. No alarms, no dings, no chimes that shouldn't be happening–

Then the soft whirring pitched up as the fan started working harder.

Okay, so the motor was running a little harder than usual but that's fi–

A sick-sounding _ka-chunka-CLANG_.

Okay, so the motor was practically whistling now—overworking—but not _overheating_. _But it's fine, the fans are keeping up_–

The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, dimmed.

Sans cast a wary glance at the mass of cables connecting his machine to the wall and generator. It had plenty of power, why was it–

The interface started beeping; logs of data spewed in a long stream from the printer on the machine's side. It must've locked on to the Anomaly—_finally_—and Sans shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from fidgeting. It was all he could do to keep from backing away. _It's probably fi_–

…

The humming pitched up into a high whirr—higher still—this time accompanied by what sounded like a hose blowing loose. Sans's sockets widened. _That's probably not good._ He backed away, hand groping for the counter behind him. He stopped when his spine pressed against cold metal. He couldn't get any further back.

Numbers flashed by in computer green so fast Sans couldn't focus on any one set of coordinates. He'd have to refer to the readouts. The paper waved two feet out, and still more printed as he rushed to see; he snagged the stream of paper between his thumb and index finger. Flickering eye lights scanned the paper rapidly for relevant information. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon…" He glanced up as the noise continued to grow, fans working at maximum capacity.

It wasn't supposed to sound like a rampant steam engine.

Still, at least the readout looked promising. He scanned the basic information—his settings and coordinates, his parameters—for what he needed most. _Ah-ha! There!_ His fingers tightened and he squinted through his glasses as his teeth ground uneasily.

_PARAMETER: ANOMALY._

_STATUS: DETECTED._

_…_

_ISOLATING: ANOMALY._

_…_

_ANOMALY: ISOLATING._

_…_

_ISOLATING…_

_ISOLATING…_

_…_

_ISOLATION SUCCESSFUL._

_ANOMALY: ISOLATED._

_…_

This was more than he could ever ask for. It was _working_! "Yes!" Sans cheered, eyes alight with victory. "You can do it, ol' girl!" Sans glanced at the machine, a tentative hand resting on the metal siding. _Just a little more._

Somewhere, metal warped. The earsplitting bang had Sans scampering back.

"Shit!" Paper forgotten, Sans ran to the side of the machine he'd worked on just minutes prior—skidding to a halt in his socks—to assess the damage. The side panel had blown off—again—leaving delicate wires and circuits exposed to the air. Tubes spilled like guts onto the floor; they pulsed and shook as the machine worked, heaving desperately to keep pace with its processors. Magic thrummed through its hoses, glowing ominous red.

Smoke coiled into the air as a circuit sparked. Sans cringed at the acrid smell. _Not good. Very not good!_ His eyes darted across the room, where the missing sheet metal had embedded itself several inches into the drywall above his desk. It must've fired clear across the room—and with some wicked velocity. Maybe he should have reinforced the walls a little better…

Sans dragged his hand over his face, palm hovering over his teeth as he stared at the metal sheeting. Good thing he'd been standing on the other side. _Yup. Paps is gonna kill me when… _if_ he sees this._

Another solid _ker-thunk_ had the skeleton skittering backwards a second time, for fear of anything else that might go flying. The machine quaked and expanded like a living, breathing creature… the metal almost seemed to move, shivering as time fluxed around it. He'd only ever seen the machine behave like this once before.

His sockets widened. Was it going to explode? 'Cause it looked like it was going to explode. Maybe he should pull the plug before it–

Another massive crash sent Sans diving under his old desk in a desperate bid for cover.

A pulse rippled through the air; papers scattered in all directions as the machine's alarm klaxon started blaring. Sans only hoped it wouldn't be a _big_ explosion… Paps wouldn't be too thrilled if they had to move. Again. He could only thank his lucky stars his brother wasn't home yet, because there was enough noise to wake the dead in his small lab.

_CRASH!_

Sans clamped his hands over his skull and squeezed his sockets shut.

He heard the fan break. It made a sick _clink-clink-clink_ as it tried to keep chugging along.

The air shook, heaving.

The lights flickered again.

_Shit!_

Pulling the plug would have been the best option, but getting any closer seemed like a decidedly _bad idea_. The last thing he needed was another accident…

"C'mon, you can do it," he growled, as if the encouragement might stop the inevitable. The machine would pull itself apart at this rate! He peered between the legs of his desk as it roared. _Stars_… the siren reverberated in his head. If the machine didn't explode, his skull just might. Another pulse quaked through the air, so strong this time Sans felt the floor shift, the house rock on its foundation, and his desk chair… well, it went flying back, slamming into the far wall with a mighty crash.

The air heaved again, like something sick–

The lights flickered, went out–

_Darkness_.

One last violent shiver through the air, so powerful Sans felt his magic try to scatter in its wake. The very essence of his being tried to reorganize inside him, twisting and straining. Like waves in a hurricane, the pulse blew through him; his Soul quaked in rhythm. He felt his joints pulling apart, his skull aching. And just when he thought it'd tear him apart…

_Silence_.

The pressure in his Soul eased and his magic quieted. His joints popped as they settled back into place. His skull rang as his hearing tried to returned to normal… he could make out the sound of the wheels on his chair spinning—squeaking—just like the broken fan.

Then… nothing. Not even the hum of the machine… it was dead.

The silence was deafening.

…

The backup generator kicked on with a low thrum. Lights came back on in an unsteady fluorescent stream, one after the other as power returned to the basement… and hopefully the rest of the house, too. The machine groaned, straining, as its processors kicked back on. A low beep indicated it had completed its task.

Sans lowered his hands from his skull slowly, eye lights flickering as he squinted against the light.

…

Well. He wasn't dead. Or scattered to pieces. And he could still see all four walls of his workshop, so… that was a plus. Sans lifted onto his elbows. _Did it… really work?_

The machine smoked and he could see circuitry sparking, but the smell of melted plastic and overused magic aside… this wasn't a bad outcome. Yeah, if anything, it hadn't exploded, and maybe it'd need a few tune-ups… but the processors starting back up was definitely a good sign. He'd pretend the machine hadn't just acted out. Severely.

_Yeah, this is fi–_

A small plaintive sound. Quiet, so quiet, but so very out of the place after the chaos, he could never have missed it. And it came from the other side of the machine. Beyond the curtain partitioning the back of his workshop.

_From the gateway_.

In his alarm, Sans forgot where he was and bolted upright. His head collided with the bottom of the desk so hard he saw stars and its solid frame jerked a solid inch off the floor. His breath hitched, the wooden _thunk_ resonating through his skull. He let out a low curse as he rubbed the top of his head and scurried out from underneath, fingers catching the edge of the desk to pull himself up. _I'm getting too old for this._

He stood still for a moment, head spinning, vision blurred, one hand steadying himself on the wooden desk. Between the ringing in his skull and the sharp pain from cracking it open (okay, not really, but it sure _hurt_ like he had)… this just wasn't his day. He plucked the glasses from his face to rub his sockets.

Another shift beyond the curtain.

Sans tensed, sockets wide. _No way. There's no way. _Spell broken, he tiptoed to the readout and glanced at the printed words with a dash of disbelief and a considerable helping of fear. An arm rubbed uneasily across his teeth as his eyes surveyed the information.

_ANOMALY: ISOLATED._

_…_

_PARAMETER: ANOMALY._

_STATUS: SYNCING._

_…_

_SYNCING…_

_SYNCING…_

_…_

_SYNC SUCCESSFUL._

_…_

_PARAMETER: ANOMALY_

_STATUS: SYNCED._

_…_

Sans looked toward the white curtain. His Soul brimmed with trepidation. He hadn't used the doorway to bring anything through since… not since _Underground_. And then it was only ever small things. And he had to make sure everything was in place—coordinates and numbers. It couldn't happen by _chance_. It couldn't happen _by accident!_

It wasn't _supposed_ to sync.

_It shouldn't have been able to sync!_

Why the _hell_ did it sync?

_How_ could it?

Another small scuffle of movement beyond the curtain. Sans's breath caught… a fox listening for a hare. The paper fluttered from his grasp.

_Anomaly synced._

He turned toward the curtain, reaching out with shaking fingers.

_Anomaly synced._

How could the machine sync an _anomaly? The Anomaly. _Sure, glitches in the timeline had been caused by living beings before—like Frisk—but this… this didn't make sense. But Frisk wasn't an Anomaly. Sans hesitated, fingers twitching. Could all their hypotheses be true after all? He didn't dare to hope it was possible. What did that mean for him? For monsterkind?

What did it matter?

Whatever he would find on the other side of the curtain… it was the _thing_ that had caused so much suffering for all of the monsters trapped Underground. It was the _thing_ that caused so much suffering for _him_. He'd lost so much… his peace of mind the least of those things. He knew whatever was on the other side… it was responsible for tearing a hole in his reality, like water on tissue paper. It made the universe weak and breakable, made the Underground susceptible to the Determination of humans like Frisk.

Sans took a small breath, steeling himself for whatever he might face. He couldn't afford to show fear now. He couldn't afford to let the coil of anger bubbling through his marrow interfere with his reason. On the other side of that curtain was something—some demon or entity—capable of altering reality, of wiping it away like chalk on a blackboard.

Could it still do that, now it was here? Were the rules the same?

His magic flowed in anticipation. His left eye flickered and glowed to life, flashing blue and yellow. He tore the curtain back like an old bandaid.

He could't be afraid.

His gaze fell. Sans inhaled sharply through his teeth.

Sprawled in the middle of the floor was–

…

_A human?_

_…_

_The Anomaly._

…

_ANOMALY SYNCED._

_…_

_SYNC SUCCESSFUL._

…

Sans heard a sheet of paper fall to the floor and flinched.

_A scared _human_ girl. No. No no no._ _…human? The Anomaly?_

She looked up at him, eyes wide, as she choked on her own breath. "_S-Sans?_"

His magic snuffed out and his eyes shrank to pinpricks before blinking out entirely.

_…what?_


	2. Chapter 2: Synced

_I had a set idea of how reality worked. Of what was possible and what wasn't. Of course, it's easy to look back and laugh at myself _now _for thinking a dream could be the only explanation for my predicament. At the time I convinced myself it made sense. __Maybe that was why I remained so calm, relatively speaking. __I figured some _Inception-_level crap was going on. However, I'd never been a lucid dreamer before, and thus the first crack in my logic appeared._

_…you know, I still don't remember what I was doing before I ended up in his workshop._

[oOo]

I don't know how I ended up flat on my butt on ugliest linoleum tile I'd ever seen in my life. No, _seriously_. It was that ugly, heathered teal-green you saw in old psych wards. It felt gritty under my fingers, like it hadn't been swept in ages. It seemed like I'd been at home. Mom and Dad had been arguing. Had I fallen asleep?

I sat up slowly, hands splayed behind me. A curtain cordoned off the area head, completing the old psych ward vibe. I shivered, nose scrunching as goose pimples ran up my arms. Stuff like this gave me the heebie-jeebies… plus, the air had that dank, basement chill. The kind of cold that seeps all the heat away from you.

I craned my head back to regard what looked like a pair of metal pillars on either side of me. They stood several feet tall and nearly connected at the top. They made me think of a prop straight out of a '60's sci-fi movie; burnished silver with a sort of retro-futuristic look. Very _Doctor Who_. _Where is this even supposed to be?_

It felt disused; the fluorescent lights overhead were burnt out and cobwebs swayed between the old sheet and ceiling, like it hadn't been moved in a long time. An unpleasant odor permeated the air: stale, still, musty… and just a bit acrid. Sharp. _Ozone._ Danger. The hairs on my arms stood on end and the back of my neck prickled. The feeling before a bad storm rolls in. _Anticipation._

Maybe I'd watched one too many _Let's Plays_ on _YouTube_ the night before, and now I was dreaming? How else could I explain my sudden dislocation? Why else did this feel like the beginning of a horror game? I trembled as memories of _Outlast_ sprung to mind. I _really_ hoped this wasn't the sort of nightmare where giant naked men ran after you with butcher knives.

Beyond the curtain the lights worked. And if there's one thing I knew about video games… you go toward the light. I didn't know if the same was true of _dreams_, but sitting on the cold linoleum didn't exactly appeal to my sensibilities. I steeled myself and took a small breath. _Here's hoping there's no giant, naked men…_

I rubbed my fists against my eyes in a vain effort to convince myself I had nothing to worry about… danger or no danger, I couldn't just sit here. I pulled my feet under me to stand, but before I could get my balance, _something_ slammed into me. Like a pulse, a wave… like the pounding bass at a rock concert, or the percussive reverberation of a firework's explosion. The force speared through my chest like a physical blow and knocked me back on my rear again, leaving me breathless, heart stammering. My chest tightened. Excruciating pain bloomed behind my eyes and the light beyond the curtain suddenly seemed blinding; I closed them on reflex, hands clutching my head. I shook, teeth grinding as my breath hissed between them, desperately willing the pain away. After an agonizingly long second, the pain faded. I took slow, even breaths as it became little more than mild discomfort. My heart seemed to calm.

At least until I heard a solid _thunk_ from the other side of the room.

I straightened, fight-or-flight response kicking in _hard_. With no exit I could see, I could only hold my breath and strain, listening—a frightened hare on the alert for a wandering fox.

_So… is this a nightmare, then?_ My fingers clutched at the smooth floor beneath me, scraping along the cracks in the tile… as if having something to hold on to would do me any good. I'd played horror games. (God, _Amnesia_. Just. _Amnesia_). This felt like the beginning of one. It just _screamed_ evil abominations and jump scares.

_Do not want._

I thought I heard footsteps… and I may actually have whimpered. Just a little. Not much. I'm brave. I swear.

Apprehension coiled in my gut like a snake as a silhouette fell across the sheet, illuminated from behind like a shadow puppet. It struck me as human at first, but the longer I looked the less human it seemed—just _off_ enough in proportion—to send barb of panic through my limbs. I shrank back, chest rising haltingly as I tried to breathe quietly. _Maybe it doesn't know I'm here. Maybe if I'm quiet it will_–

A clawed hand lifted toward the sheet.

I tensed. I needed to get up, get my feet under me without making too much noise. My arms and legs wobbled, too heavy, as I tried to rise. The air seemed to press in on me.

A set of boney digits hooked round the edge of the curtain, clutching it like talons. Too white to be fingers. My eyes widened and my heart sped. _No skin. There's _no _skin. They've got no _skin_. Claws. Those are claws! Oh God._

Any sense of calm I attempted to maintain scattered as my mind went blank, whispering horrible suggestions of what those sharp digits might belong to.

Metal on metal, skittering and scraping, grated against my ears as the monstrous hand yanked the partition aside like an old shower curtain. My knees gave out and I fell back as a scream lodged in my throat.

…

It never came.

My eyes widened as I gaped, mouth open. My brain stuttered to a halt; words ceased to exist. This had to be a dream. It _had to_. How else could I explain this… _this apparition?_ My hand rose to my face as if to catch the name that tumbled from my lips.

"_S-Sans?_"

…

This was an _Undertale_ dream? I didn't know whether to be thrilled or worried. I must've been more stressed than I realized. Escaping too much. _I'm dreaming about a _video game _for cryin' out loud! I've finally cracked._ My hand wandered to my forehead and rested against the cool skin there. _I'm not feverish, anyway._

I sat up a little straighter, fear nearly forgotten in favor of fascination as I squinted up at him like he'd disappear if I blinked again. _No way. No flippin' way._

Sans the Skeleton stood before me. His iconic blue hoodie was absent, but since when did clothes make the man… er, skeleton? I definitely knew these pudgy features. _Isn't that an oxymoron? How on earth can a skeleton be "pudgy?" _He looked sturdy. Solid. _Real_… and as stunned as I felt if his expression were any indication. What he lacked in eyebrows he made up for with wide sockets, and I more than got the sense they would be raised if he had any. I imagined his jaw might have hung open if it didn't seem fused shut. _Can he even open it? And how?_ Two tiny lights in his dark sockets served as pupils; they flickered a few times, giving the impression he was blinking rapidly. They darted around the dark room before they settled firmly on me. The curtain bunched in his grip.

For a moment he reminded me of a statue, unblinking and unmoving. Unnaturally, frighteningly so… but if I looked carefully I could see the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed (_with what lungs?_), and the lights in his sockets shivered subtly as he waited.

It felt like he was trying to figure something out.

I swallowed. His fingers _did_ look a little like claws…

I scooched back. Not subtly. Not gracefully.

Just scooted. Slowly.

Across the floor.

My brain was too busying looping on _Holy-Shit-It's-Sans_ to fully process the numbness in my fingers or the rampaging sensation in my chest that fell somewhere between rampant fangirl and terror.

My back hit the far wall.

The cold provided exactly the shock I needed to jumpstart my head again, and with dizzying proficiency. I could see so many details. Things were usually fuzzy and unfocused in dreams, but I could see his fingers—_phalanges?_—curved like hooks into the curtain. In the game they were represented as or covered by mittens. _Huh. My dream gave him fingers. Neat! Also surreal._

My head tilted. Sans mirrored me. He never blinked, but his eye lights seemed to dilate and shrink again in quick succession. As if coming to some decision, he gave a sharp nod and stepped forward as he brushed the sheet aside. Light poured over his shoulders to cast him in the most ominous shadows I'd ever seen in my life. One of his brow bones twitched… and then his sockets curved and his cheekbones lifted as if to emphasize the teeth too long and straight to be a normal human skeleton's. He held out a hand to me.

_Holy-shit-it's-Sans. Holy-shit-it's–_

A squeak, somewhere between fear and excitement—and far from those most dignified sound I've ever made—tangled in the back of my throat as I drew a back. He was so cool… in an understated sort of way. When he wasn't being a troll. Or terrifying. I wasn't sure which version to expect.

"Heya pal," he rumbled. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."

"M-more like a skeleton, actually," I said, eyes wide.

It didn't seem to be the reaction he expected; his smile twitched and his eyes flickered, brightening, though his fingers withdrew slightly. His brow quirked again. Undoubtedly raising it at me, eye brows or no. He held his hand forward once more, fingers intently outstretched.

I let out a slow breath.

Sans chuckled. The throaty laugh seemed loud in the stillness and I twitched. My reaction only seemed to encourage him and his grin grew wider still, amusement clear on his features. One socket winked shut. I marveled he could close them—apparently at will—though clearly not required. He stretched his fingers a little further, wiggling them in my face. "You gonna sit there all day, pal? Or are you gonna take my hand?"

…

My lips formed a small "O" as I finally placed my hand in his. He took a firm hold and hauled me to my feet with disconcerting effortlessness.

The world seemed to tilt as I stood. I pressed my free hand to my temple until the sensation faded. My other hand remained in his for a moment as I regained my balance. It felt pleasantly warm and dry against my icy fingers. _I thought his hands would be cold._

He cleared his throat—_how!?_—and my eyes snapped to his face. "What? Never held hands with a skeleton before?"

I dropped his hand like I'd been bitten and mumbled an apology. I hadn't even realized how hard I'd been staring…

Sans shoved his hand back into his pocket, impassive.

"No. Uh. Well, I haven't. Just, it's uh… you're _Sans_," I stammered, as if it would explain everything.

"The one and _bonely_," he quipped, mouth twitching as his eyes scanned me.

I felt exposed under his stare. My arms wrapped around my middle, fingers clutching at my sleeves as my chest gave a little squeeze. I'd never been a particularly talkative person, and this situation was beyond my realm of expertise. I didn't know what to do or say… and he seemed to be looking for _something_.

"Welp. Guess I don't gotta tell you who I am… but let's share an' share alike. Who're you?" He watched me from the corner of his socket.

I screwed up my face. It was an easy question. At least, it should've been… only, for a second—just a second, mind you—all I could see instead of my name was a big, blank space inside my head. Nothing. I shook my head, because yeah, of course, _of course_… God, stupid things happened when I got nervous. Fear scrambled my head. My poor brain didn't keep up like it should. My face flushed, but I whipped up my most charming smile. "My name's Lumena."

"Heh. Well, buddy… welcome to my workshop." Sans rocked back on his heels and shifted to the side, his eyes lingering on me as he held the sheet aside and gestured beyond the partition with one hand. "So. Lu—can I call you Lu?"

_Has a nice ring to it._ I nodded.

"Maybe let's get somewhere a little cozier than this ol' place. Bit chilly down here."

Almost on reflex I rubbed my fingers. I could feel Sans's gaze on me as I crept past him. My hands lifted to my chest and I resisted the urge to let my internal excitement _squee_ out. His workshop didn't look _exactly_ how I remembered, but considering I'd only ever had a top-down view from a retro-style video game to work from, I can't say I was surprised by any inconsistancies. _This place is amazing!_

My eyes drifted over the room. It looked as if a whirlwind had blown through: papers littered the floor and most of the counter space to my right. And… was that a piece of sheet metal_ lodged in the wall?_ _How the hell does three feet of scrap metal end up embedded in a solid wall?!_ My face scrunched with concern.

"Thought I'd redecorate," Sans said cheekily as he followed my gaze. I looked at him with a raised brow, snarky comment at the ready, but my breath caught. The comment I'd prepared slipped my mind as my eyes trailed past Sans.

…

_The machine._

My eyes felt drawn to it, riveted.

Even smoking and half-broken, it was intimidating; I felt as if it loomed, prowled, waited…

You know how sometimes your intuition tells you things are just _wrong_ and you have no way to really explain or describe it? There's no logical reason for the feeling—it's just _there?_ That's how the machine made me feel. There was an awful sense of foreboding deep down inside that made me want nothing more than to run away screaming.

I was vaguely aware of Sans waving a hand in the corner of my eye. I ignored him.

A small screen blinked with green text. Enthralled, I stepped closer and squinted to read it. Just as I did, some wiring sparked and I shrank back. Sans chose that moment to step up, one hand brushing my upper arm. "Bit of a zoo down here right now. Sorry." He jerked his chin and pointed with one thumb over his shoulder toward the only exit. "S'probably not the safest place to be–"

Right on cue the machine emitted a particularly loud bang.

I jumped, hands flying to my mouth to hold back a scream.

Sans cringed, putting a large step between himself and the cranky metal behemoth. With his point made for him, he sent me a quick glance and guided me away from the machine. "Wouldn't recommend coming back down here until I can get it cleaned up."

I hazarded one last glance at the machine. When I turned back to Sans I said, "Looks like a tornado blew through here."

Sans chuckled, shrugging his shoulders as he walked ahead of me. "You could say it had a _twist_ at the end."


	3. Chapter 3: Telling Time

_Part of me already knew. My dreams weren't like this. I'd never had complete awareness in a dream before. Plus, time didn't stand still or speed forward to focus on events. Everything happened, unfolded around me. Still, I took it all in stride, unaware anything and everything I did was watched, noted, and remembered._

[oOo]

Sans lead me from his workshop. I expected to step out into the cold of Snowdin. Instead, we were in a long hallway. I tried to mentally shrug off the discrepancy. Maybe I misremembered. We took the stairs at the end and came up into the living room. At first glance I believed it to be the same as the one I remembered in _Undertale. _Then my brain dutifully nudged me and reminded me the skelebros did not, in fact, have a door leading to a basement in their house. And maybe I was disoriented from the change in viewpoint, but shouldn't there have been a kitchen to my right?

"Kitchen's this way." Sans waved me forward as he shuffled across the room, socked feet muffled by the plush carpet. I padded close behind. Something else felt off about the room, but I couldn't put my finger on what it might be. I only had a few seconds to take it in… _it's probably nothing,_ I told myself. _Besides, what does it matter if it's a little different?_

We passed through a small foyer. Stairs rose, curving beyond my sight. Across from those, the front door, bordered by decorative glass, allowed _sunlight_ to stream through. It spilled across the floor, spreading over my toes…

Sans glanced back at me curiously when I paused. He could see the wheels turning in my head.

"Where is this?" I asked.

Sans turned to face me, brows raised. His teeth lifted into a smirk, "What? You never been in a skeleton's house before? We don't just hide in closets, you know."

I scratched the back of my head absently, trying to ignore the nagging feeling in the back of my mind. "It's just… this isn't Snowdin."

Sans's hands were in his pockets again. His eyes flicked over my face, the peculiar expression from the basement returning. Searching. Looking for something. One corner of his mouth remained lifted. "Nope. It's not Snowdin."

"This is your house…" I murmured as my eyes trailed to the front door again, to the stairs, to the doorway Sans lingered beside. The nagging feeling redoubled. _This is elaborate for a dream._

Sans cocked his head, arms crossing as he leaned casually against the doorframe. "Yup. I brought you here. Using my machine. In my workshop. In my basement… which is in my house. Which—while we're stating the obvious—I might mention, _isn't_ in Snowdin."

His snide response left me fidgeting, fingers curled against my thighs. I liked to think I could read people fairly well. I could hear what they said and see what they didn't. Sans was all but saying he was in _control_… over everything. The machine, this place—_his_ place—and… me? I swallowed down the flicker of irritation I felt. I was probably reading too much into his words and crossed arms. _Yeah._ I took a small, steadying breath and bobbed my head with a smile. Nothing to do for it now. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay!" I echoed with a playful curtsey, eyes twinkling up at the skeleton despite the uneasy feeling in my gut. "Here I am." _Now what?_

Sans scoffed and gave me another good once-over. "Here you are." A heavy silence fell between us before he motioned me forward. "Anyways. Let's move this rodeo to the kitchen. I'm thirsty."

The kitchen felt cozy and bright, with pale yellow walls offsetting the white tile flooring. A clock ticked quietly on the wall.

"Have a seat," Sans said, voice disarmingly genial as he gestured to the table. "Make yourself comfortable. There's a few things we gotta get straight."

I held his gaze a moment. Those weren't good words. Good things couldn't follow them. Nope. I settled in a chair on the far side of the table, as if having it between us might buffer anything he had to say. _I'm in a kitchen with Sans the Skeleton. …and he's being a low-key asshole._

"How 'bout somethin' to drink? Something warm?"

…

_A likable low-key asshole._ "Yes, please."

Sans regarded me like an equation that didn't add up. He planted one hand on the countertop as he pressed casually against it. His fingers drummed once, twice. His skeletal grin never disappeared, however his teeth seemed to twitch at the corners. It left the impression of a hasty grin as he straightened and turned to the cabinet just over his head. "Sure are polite, ain'tcha?"

My hands clutched together under the table. I shrank and my smile slipped fractionally. Did he expect me to be rude?

The soft clink of porcelain and soft _whump _of the cabinet closing brought me back to the present. Sans set on a kettle to boil before giving me a sidelong glance. He must have noticed my withdrawal. "Nothin' wrong with good manners."

I remained decidedly silent as Sans busied himself; he flung the fridge open with one hand while a finger tapped his chin. My eyes were drawn to the multitude of photos and papers stuck to the door. In particular, a child's drawing with a name scrawled on it in faded purple crayon stood out:

_Frisk, age 7._

A human—undeniably Frisk—stood at the center. Brown crayon scribbles reproduced their shaggy hair while blue and purple indicated their shirt. Still, more striking and precious than anything else, Frisk had drawn a smile onto their own face, small and happy. A familiar cast of monsters stood on either side of the child. Drawn in blue—and possessing an abnormally large smiley face for a head—stood Sans. Papyrus stood next to his brother with a plate of spaghetti held above his head—there were yellow stars drawn all around it. On Frisk's right, hand held fast to the child's, stood a beaming Toriel. Her face resembled a jelly bean with horns. Completing the image were the words, "My Family," scrawled above the characters in a child's bold handwriting.

Warmth flooded my chest. The idea of Sans and Papyrus displaying the kid's artwork like proud parents, seeing this house, the smiling faces framed by photographs… they were all the result of a True Pacifist Ending. I didn't even realize I'd started to grin until the fridge slammed shut. Sans stood with one socked foot still lifted, a bottle of ketchup in one hand. Our eyes met. His smile seemed to strain; the air thickened.

I locked my ankles under my chair. Remember what I said about being out of my realm of expertise? I scrambled for anything to ease the subtle tension, anything to stop the disgruntled look Sans tried to cover with a placid smile. "The kid's quite the artist."

It seemed to work. Undeniable warmth lit his eyes as Sans looked at the faded crayon. "Yeah, the kid's great." Sans winked and tilted his bottle in my direction before he returned to the stove. When he finished and turned back to me, he held a dainty tea cup—complete with saucer—in one hand.

The moment caught in my mind, a strange picture, albeit not unpleasant. It seemed such an odd sight: the stout skeleton with grease stains on his shirt, brows angled as he approached… and a tea cup I never would have attributed to someone like Sans. Actually… once we passed through the living room, nothing about this place struck me as the sort of home Sans the Skeleton would have.

He set the steaming cup down in front of me before he plopped himself in the chair directly across from my own. A finger tapped once on the table and he nodded toward my cup when he saw me eyeing it curiously. "It's Sea Tea."

I wrapped my hands around the petite cup; my fingers tingled pleasantly as the warmth seeped through them. I sighed softly and sank a little deeper into my chair. I tried to ignore the heaviness clogging the air as Sans and I sat eye-to-eye. The kitchen light shone down between us.

Sans unscrewed his ketchup and eyed the contents of the bottle contemplatively before taking a long swig. His mouth never moved.

I blinked up at him, then back to the glowing liquid in my cup. It didn't look like tea. Its luminous glow filled the tiny cup and stuck to the sides, leaving trails of pale blue. I took a furtive sniff. The heady aroma seemed to go right to my head, clearing my mind and sharpening my focus. My brows furrowed at the curious sensation. _Is it because it's monster food? Is it magic?_ I couldn't remember what it did in-game, but I hadn't even taken a sip yet and I felt… _odd._

"S'not poisoned," Sans added with a wry smile, leaning his elbow on the table. "If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't be sittin' in my kitchen with a cuppa." His grin broadened and he waited, sockets dark.

I shifted minutely, startled by the implications of his words. For the record, I _didn't_ think he'd poison me. Nevertheless, my eyes narrowed and I tried to ignore the beads of sweat forming along my brow.

He snorted, eyes brightening, as his fingers _tap-tapped._ "Relax. I'm only messin' with ya. Yeesh. Lighten up." He withdrew with a shake of his head. "But in all seriousness… my brother's gonna be home soon. So. Let's just cut to the chase." I didn't miss how he leaned forward in his chair or how his face grew stern. I'd never imagined him without his trademark grin… I didn't like how the corners of his mouth fell, flattening.

My leg bounced subconsciously under the table, mirroring the rhythm of Sans's fingers. Once I realized what I was doing, I stopped and tilted the cup to my lips. Calm seemed to flood through me, warming me from within, and stilled my shaking fingers. _Why are they shaking?_ I refused to acknowledge any fear I felt and leveled my gaze with the skeleton. _It's just nerves. I don't need to be scared. _I offered a faint smile. "All right. Let's."

The problem-solving expression returned as Sans's face and his fingers started working overtime on the wooden tabletop. My eyes darted to his twitching digits. The constant clicking did nothing for my nerves. When Sans caught my glance his fingers stilled momentarily.

"Welp. First things first," he breathed, allowing his words to hang in the air as he regarded me. "You seem awful trusting, considering we've never actually met before."

I lifted one shoulder in a shrug, lips pursed as I thought. "How do you figure we've never actually met? Maybe we have…" I pointed out.

He smirked up at me before taking another swig from his bottle. It came down harder than necessary. "I mean, yeah, maybe. Maybe we have. But I seriously doubt that," he said. One finger began to tap again, rhythm slower than before. Controlled. He watched me for any indication he might be wrong. I thought I did a good job putting on a poker face, but… "You an' me both know we've never _actually_ met. You're not really the _type _to get involved directly… what, bein' the Anomaly an' all." I shivered as he looked up at me from under his brow.

_Anomaly? _I stared, frozen by the ice underlaying his casual tone. My lips shivered into a nervous smile as I shook my head slowly. Of course we'd never physically met—that was _impossible_. Sans came from a video game. A very medium-aware video game, but still _just a video game._ I took another swallow of tea, hoping it would calm my nerves the same way it had before.

"Anyways," he continued, unbothered by my confused expression. "All that being said, you must know a lot about us monsters." He hooked me with a knowing stare and shifted in his seat. He scratched at his knee before he continued, "And obviously, you know somethin' about the Underground." Sans leaned forward, grin veiled.

I did mention Snowdin a little prematurely, didn't I?

"Is that about right?" He prompted when I remained silent.

"Yeah, that's about right," I answered. I'd played multiple routes, exploring all the secrets I could find in _Undertale_. What I didn't find myself could be found online. I quelled my nerves with the knowledge Sans didn't harm anyone without just reason. _Right?_ Still, why all the prodding? Why did it matter what I knew? My thumb rubbed absently along the side of my tea cup.

"Then you know what I am, right?" He leaned on his forearms. The table shifted under his weight.

My brows furrowed at the question. Didn't he just ask me if I knew about underground? Didn't it follow I knew what monsters were? Who he was? Unsure what he meant, I supplied a cautious answer, "You're Sans. Sans the Skeleton. A monster from underground."

He seemed dissatisfied with my response. Regardless he nodded, fingers _tap-tap-tapping_ away again. "Yep. And as you can see, we've got something of a cozy place here on the surface now. We'd like to keep it that way, if you know what I mean."

I met his pointed stare, no less confused than before. "Of course. I mean, why wouldn't you…?"

Sans inspected the tips of his fingers as he rubbed them into the wood. "So. I got some questions for you." He played casual, cupping his cheek in one hand.

I raised a brow. "Even more? You sure are _nosy_ for a guy without one," I quipped, a little pleased with my pun game.

Sans pulled a face as he tried to suppress a surprised laugh. His hearty chuckle finally won out and his smile became a full-blown grin. "Yeah. I got a _ton_ more—a _skele-ton_." Wink.

A giggle bubbled up from my chest, though I sobered quickly. "Well… fire away."

Sans shaped his fingers into a gun and pointed them in my direction with a click of his tongue as he cocked the metaphorical weapon. "I know you know what I know you know, but I wanna know what you know. What do you know about monster history?"

…_wait what._ I squinted as my index finger moved in small circles. I tried to follow what he'd said and once caught up, my head tilted. _Why ask if he knows? _The clock punctuated my silence with a steady _tick-tock_. I noted absently it read _4:47pm_. This dream—if that's even what it was—was beginning to feel rather drawn out. I folded my hands on the table. "Well. I know a lot?"

"Tell me about it."

I took a sip of tea as I considered. "Well…" Did he really want a repeat of something we both knew? I couldn't think of any reason _not_ to. "Monster- and humankind had a war a long time ago. Humans won and trapped monsters underground behind a barrier because… because humans were afraid." I dug back into my memory. What prompted the war? "Something about humans being afraid of the ability of monsters to take human souls and use them to become immensely powerful."

It felt strange repeating the story out loud with a monster sitting in front of me. I felt an illogical twinge of guilt and… something else.

_Pity._

I glanced across the table at Sans. I could only imagine what it must have been like, trapped underground with no hope. All because humanity feared what monsters were capable of. They locked monstrosity away, dooming them to a hopeless future… until Frisk came along. I recounted what history I knew to the skeleton. The story of _Undertale_. Sans listened intently, offering the occasional acknowledgment, but never interrupted. He seemed intrigued, but not surprised by my knowledge. I knew enough to pass for someone who'd always been in this world. If anything, I knew more than the average human. I even knew how Frisk managed to break the barrier alongside Asriel.

The china clattered quietly as I set my cup down. Sans slouched into his chair, fingers tapping quietly along the table. Apparently it was some sort of nervous tic. Something he did when he was thinking.

Oppressive silence settled between us. My hands fell into my lap. I tried to distract myself, even considered asking for more tea, but… I remained rooted to my chair.

_Tick-tick-tick._ I glanced at the clock. _4:56pm._

My foot jiggled silently under the table; I crossed my ankles again to still the fidgeting limb.

My eyes flickered to the child's art on the fridge.

_My Family. Frisk, age 7._

"How long have monsters been on the surface?" I asked, distracting myself from the uneasy feeling trying gnaw its way to my core, trying to set off the alarm bells in the back of my mind. My hands clutched. My fingers were going cold again.

He hummed low in his throat, eyes on his ketchup as he scratched at his temple. I swallowed as the sound of bone-on-bone sent a shiver down my spine. "Been six years now." His eyes snapped back up to me. "Six _good_ years."

"Wow…" I breathed. "…wow. Six years? I can't even imagine what it would be like coming up here after…" I hesitated, voice lowering as I looked toward Sans. "After being trapped for so long." I held the tea cup gently, my thumb absently tracing the delicate, curling design on its side. A smile found its way to my face.

Sans finished his ketchup, chugging down the last few drops. The bottle clanged on the table as he sighed, satisfied. "Amazing," Sans said, smile straining. "Like a dream come true." He stared down into the empty bottle for a moment before leaning back in his chair again. His arms slid behind his head, eyes half-closed.

"I'm happy for you," I said sincerely, gaze lingering on Frisk's artwork before finding Sans's face. He looked up at me with one eye.

Sans mumbled something like thanks, shifting in his seat as his eyes darted to the fridge, the photos and art stuck to it, out the far window… but when they returned to my face, his smile flattened. His eyes, however, retained a languid curve, glittering lights half-covered. "Happy, huh?" His fingers started to drum again. "Makes me wonder." I sat a little straighter. I had a feeling I wouldn't like what he said next.

"All the things you know about us and what happened Underground… the way you didn't even bat an eye when I mentioned my brother… can't say I'm surprised. No less than I'd expect from an Anomaly like yourself…" He waved a hand unhurriedly in front of his face. "You're someone whose seen it again and again, hmm? An' I'm just wonderin'…" He straightened in his chair, sockets wide as he pinned me with a look. "If you're so happy for all o' us, then…" His sockets went dark. "Why'd you do it?"

I stared at him, confused, as an uneasy sensation welled within my chest. _Do… it?_ My fingers twitched. "Do what?"

The tension in the air seemed to snap, and all at once Sans rose from his seat, hands slapping down with a sound like china on the table. I stiffened at the abrupt movement, eyes widening as a breath tore its way out of my throat. I pressed back into my chair, putting what little distance I could between myself and the skeleton.

The kitchen light shone down harshly on Sans's cheekbones, washing out the ivory, darkening his smile. I felt less and less like I was seated at a kitchen table and more like I was set up for an interrogation. And I was the criminal. His sockets were little more than pitch black holes in his face as he waited, clearly displeased with my response. His smile twitched. The air between us seemed to spark, pushing against me like a physical force. The small hairs on my arms stood on end. I felt I'd been trapped and I licked my lips, mouth dry. _…this is a nightmare._

I gulped down the last bit of tea, hoping its warm, salty aroma would comfort me and soothe away the ominous sensation clenching in my gut. My heart stammered in my chest. Even after I drained my tea I found myself clutching the sides of the cup as I tried to collect myself. "L-look, I'm not really sure what you're getting at…"

Sans let out a sharp breath through his nasal cavity. His shoulders hunched forward. He seemed to gather himself, but even after his eye lights reappeared he continued to press toward me, smile turned snarl.

In _Undertale_, Sans had seemed fairly… snarky. Entertaining to read. Obviously intelligent and fun-loving. I underestimated how terrifying he could be. Then again, it wasn't like I'd ever had his fury aimed at me before… still. I couldn't help but feel grateful I didn't have to stare into empty black sockets anymore… even if he did make a point to roll those eye lights at me like I'd just said the dumbest thing he'd ever heard.

Sans gestured toward me with a lazy flick of his wrist. "Why'd you, oh, I dunno…" His voice came out low, deceptively calm. "Poke a hole in the universe? Destabilize time? Play with the lives of innocent monsters?"

I gripped the edge of the table with white knuckles as his accusations sank in. I felt my heart throb, dropping with each biting question. I dared not look away from the glowering skeleton, but in the back of my mind I questioned his words. Weren't we sitting in the wake of a True Pacifist ending? _What is he even talking about?_

"What kind o' person does somethin' like that?" He continued, heedless of how my anxiety climbed. He leaned forward until the table creaked under his weight. "Were you bored?" His head tilted. "Was it fun for you?"

I frowned, brows scrunching under Sans's scrutiny. I sucked in a small breath, not even sure where to begin… if I should say anything at all. I wanted to defend myself, but he continued before I could.

"I hope you at least had fun," Sans sneered.

I gaped at the monster, at a loss for words as his snide remark pierced through my defenses. _Had… fun?_ Indignation coursed through me. I glared at my empty tea cup like it had committed the deepest offense—I didn't want to have to look at Sans… though he probably deserved the glare more than my tea cup. I chewed my lip. I didn't want to be hasty, either. I turned the cup between my fingers… any calm the tea may have imparted had long since fled.

I didn't want to snap at him, even if what he said now felt unwarranted. When I finally managed to gather myself, I took in a slow breath. The scorn dripping from his voice had my stomach roiling all over again and a chill creeping up my spine. I never cared much for confrontation. Memories of battles I could never win clutched at my heart. I wanted to run, to disappear. But I couldn't. I took one more small breath before I looked back up at him, face open and earnest. I spoke slowly, voice carefully level. "I'm just a girl from the American Midwest, Sans. I think you've got me confused with someone else."

I didn't go poking holes in universes. I worked in _sales_ (it _sucked_). I drew. Wrote. Played video games when I needed to escape. Read _books_. I _couldn't _do the things he claimed I'd done. Dream or not. And even if I could, why would I want to spread more chaos and destruction? I'd seen more than enough of my share over the past several years—more than enough for one lifetime. I shoved those memories away as they threatened to overwhelm me. Still, I felt my lips tremble through my placating smile.

Sans's sockets narrowed. He looked like he had more to say.

…

The front door slammed.

I jumped in my seat and knocked the tea cup over. I clambered to keep it from rolling onto the floor.

Sans's head whipped back and forth between me and the doorway so fast I'm amazed he didn't end up rolling his skull off his shoulders. His eye lights shrank to pinheads, and when his smile came back it was tight and forced. Desperate.

Heavy footfalls sounded in the hallway, stomping toward the kitchen. "SANS! I'M HOME!"

"Not a word!" Sans said quickly, voice low and strained. His eyes seemed to flash desperately. "Not a word about the machine. Just… follow my lead."

I could feel his tension… or maybe it was mine. I don't know if I'll ever be sure. _Why did it matter? I thought Papyrus knew about the machine?_ My brows lowered and I opened my mouth to argue.

Papyrus burst into the kitchen before I could. The lumbering skeleton stopped mid-step, jaw unhinged as his eyes switched between me and Sans.

My hands withdrew from the tea cup to clutch uneasily against my chest as my head slowly turned to the tall skeleton, as if any sudden movement might cause all the tension gathered in the air to burst.

In one fluid movement Sans reached across the table, snagged my tea cup, and spun it round his index finger before he padded to the kitchen sink. Languid and easy, smile relaxed, like he hadn't just been snarling across the table at me, he looked over his shoulder at Papyrus. "Welcome home, bro." I could only marvel at his acting ability. As if we'd just had the most lovely conversation…

"Sans. SANS! Why is there a human in our kitchen!?" Papyrus's eyes snapped to me, a confused scowl on his features.

I shrank back into my seat… _well shit_. This just got awkward.


	4. Chapter 4: The Manor

**A/N:** As always, thank you for reading. 3

_Undertale_ was created by the fantastic Mr. Fox. …I mean Toby Fox. Thank you for your inspiring characters.

* * *

"Bro. Is that any way to treat a new pal?"

Sans didn't bother to look up from the tea cup as he washed it.

Papyrus's brows shot up and his teeth clattered in shock as his scowl narrowed on his brother. "WELL! You could have at least WARNED me we were going to have a GUEST!" He flailed his arms as he continued to glare at Sans's back.

Sans offered Papyrus an apologetic shrug. His hands raised, dripping soapy water onto the floor and counter. "Sorry Paps. Must've _slipped_ my mind."

Papyrus quietly fumed.

I wanted to melt into the floor. I pressed my chin into my hand, fingers covering my face. _Yeah. Floor. You can swallow me any time now. Thanks._ When Papyrus finally turned his attention back to me, all he could see were my eyes, wide and a little fearful. He looked me up and down, a thoughtful hand on his chin. He seemed to size me up—one foot tapped the floor as he did—but I was the most pathetic thing he'd ever seen and he couldn't decide what to do about it.

I acted on autopilot. I rose from my seat, put on my best best sales associate smile—the kind of bullshitting grin that makes it seem like nothing's wrong at all and has _never-been-wrong-at-all-what-are-you-talking-about_—and held out my hand. A painful second passed as I waited for him to take it.

Papyrus blinked.

I cringed. "Uh…" I don't know why I glanced at Sans. He wouldn't help. If anything, he looked deeply satisfied by my panicked expression. "I didn't mean to impose. I'm Lumena."

Papyrus backpedaled. His cheeks tinged—was he _blushing?_—as he realized how rude he'd been. "Nyoh-oh-oh! I only meant I– oh, never mind! SANS SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME!" He sent the skeleton in question a scathing look before grinning down at me. "Do not worry, human! Someone so small as you could not possibly impose on the hospitality of The Great Papyrus! For you see, I am ALWAYS prepared for the unexpected guest!" And just like that he encased my hand in both of his and gave it a hearty shake. "It is good to meet you, Human Lumena! I AM PAPYRUS! I am Sans's much cooler brother!"

I felt my cheeks tinge pink with the sudden warmth of his greeting; I grinned in spite of myself as the tension diffused.

I could hear Sans rolling his eyes. He turned from drying his hands and leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "You're _the_ coolest, bro," he grinned, sockets curved. "He's an ambassador for monster-human relations."

"YES! I am the face of monster-human relations! A mascot of good will!" Papyrus puffed out his chest, one hand raised over where his heart would be. "So you see, it is truly WONDERFUL to have you in our home, human!" Papyrus raised his hand back to his chin. I could see the gears in his head start turning as his eyes switched between me and his brother. "Although. Why are you in our home? My brother does not have any human friends."

My eyes widened and I stammered as I frantically tried to think up an excuse. "Uh, well, I'm uh, just–"

"She's a refugee."

_Refugee!?_

Papyrus and I looked toward Sans in unison.

Papyrus's sockets widened as he turned to me.

_Refugee from _what_!?_

I used the table behind me for support as I avoided Papyrus's pitiful stare. So, Sans decided to help out in the most obtuse way he could. _Great._

"BUT SANS! You said you didn't want to host a _human_ refugee!"

"Well, I changed my mind, didn't I?" Sans countered. "Sorry bro. Guess I shoulda told ya sooner. We got a spare room upstairs, so why not put it to some good use for a while? Human or monster, what's it matter?" He cast me a brief, meaningful look. "Lu here can stay with us until her situation gets sorted out."

"Wowie!" Papyrus gasped, head whipping between me and his brother. He reminded me of a giddy schoolboy who'd just met a cool foreign exchange student.

…except I wasn't cool and I wasn't a student.

Sans seemed pleased with his brother's reaction and settled back into the counter, arms crossed once more.

Papyrus's enthusiasm dwindled when he noticed my face. He took my uncertain expression for distress and crossed the kitchen in two strides to place a hand on my shoulder. He gave it a little squeeze and offered a reassuring smile. "Make yourself at home, human! It will be wonderful to have you join our family for a while!"

I could feel Sans's stare on me even as I looked up at Papyrus. I managed to pull up a meek smile. "Thank you, Papyrus. I look forward to staying here." It wasn't a complete lie… but I didn't like the idea of lying to _anyone_, never mind Papyrus. With Sans's words still ringing in the back of my mind, I didn't know exactly _what_ to think about what was going on. _He_ was the one saying I'd be staying here. I couldn't help but wonder if there was more to it than that; he was watching me closely. I could tell.

My eyes found the clock again.

…if this was a dream, it was time for me to wake up.

_No. No way. You can't seriously think this is really happening. This isn't some stupid fan fiction…_ I ran a hand over my face. _Just chill, Lu. Make like The Beatles and _Let It Be_._

"AH-HA! I see you have noticed our clock! It keeps perfect time! And I believe is says… it is dinner time! You must be hungry!"

_Actually…_ food couldn't have been further from my mind at the time.

"Usually," Papyrus continued, unaware of my predicament, "Sans and I order out for movie night on Fridays, but as you're here, well! This calls for the very best! A celebration of our new human friend!" Before I knew what was happening, Papyrus flung his arms around me in an embrace that lifted my feet off the floor. I flailed in his grasp. Pretty sure he crushed the air out of my lungs. "This calls for a home-cooked meal! This calls for… FRIENDSHIP SPAGHETTI! NYEH HEH HEH!"

"Eheheheh, well bro…" Sans's nervous laugh cut through Papyrus's excitement. "That might be kinda im-_pasta_-ble…"

Papyrus set me down and sent his brother a withering glare. I stumbled, steadying myself with a hand on the chair behind me.

"SANS! Don't even–"

"You'll have to go to the store to spa-_get_ some, 'cause we're fresh outta–"

"SANS!"

"Spaghetta."

I snorted into my hands, barely holding back a laugh. Papyrus's unamused expression only served to tickle me further and I bit my lip to stifle any further sound.

"What?" Sans asked innocently. "Did my joke fall flat? C'mon. _Penne_ for your thoughts?" His eyes slid to me as I choked back another giggle.

Papyrus huffed. "We can just make FRIENDSHIP QUICHE instead!"

[oOo]

Papyrus had the sort of infectious energy that made it hard _not_ to smile as he chattered on, filling the kitchen with anecdotes and observations as he ushered Sans and I to sit while he cooked. His voice lilted pleasantly when he wasn't shrieking at his brother and his boisterousness counterbalanced Sans's placid demeanor. Papyrus never seemed upset for long—which was fortunate, given the number of puns and jokes Sans told at his brother's expense.

The next hour seemed to race by. Papyrus had burst the bubble of tension in the kitchen with his presence alone, and I was content to swing my feet under my chair and listen as he prattled on. Somehow we came around to how Sans had made quiche earlier… but Papyrus wanted my first meal with them to be "special" and insisted on making a brand new one. Something "good." Besides, in Papyrus's own words:

"Sans always ruins his by making it sweet!"

Sans snorted softly from where he sat at the other end of the table. "Bro… it's pie. It's supposed to be sweet."

"Nyeh."

"Oh, come on. It was shaped like your face." Sans cast me a sidelong glance, just to make sure I was listening. "Guess that made it a Pa-_pie_-rus." Wink.

_No_. I stifled a snicker with my hands. _He just set that up_. It wasn't funny… at least, I tried to tell myself as much, but a small squeak squeezed between my fingers anyway and my eyes glistened as I looked between the brothers.

Papyrus placed his hands on his hips and sent a glare in my direction, the whisk in his hand flinging egg as he shook it. "_Don't_ encourage him!" The dismay on his face was so exaggerated I couldn't help but laugh more.

"See, she thinks my jokes are _humerous_." Sans grinned as he stabbed a thumb in my direction.

His puns were… well-placed, I'd give him that. Yeah. That was it. They were bad, but the way he said them… his delivery was endearing.

Papyrus stomped his foot before resolutely and turned his back to us.

"Oh, Papyrus," I chided him gently, "Don't let him get… _under your skin_."

…

Papyrus gawked, jaw flapping as he squeaked, words lost.

Both brothers stared at me with stupefied expressions. Papyrus with clear dismay. Sans with something like shock? He started to snort.

A nervous giggle slipped through my fingers, breaking the tense silence. I heard bone on bone as Sans slapped his knee, his snort turning into genuine laughter as he laid his head between his arms on the table. His shoulders continued to shake with silent laughter.

I began to giggle again, face flushed red between embarrassment and pride, before I looked at Papyrus. His reactions made it _worth_ it. No wonder Sans barbed at him so much!

"Why did we get the human with a broken sense of humor?" Though his head was thrown back in exasperation, Papyrus watched me from the corner of his socket. One side of his mouth quirked and when our eyes met he grinned.

We spent the rest of our dinner-breakfast catching up on news and events of the day. A disastrous tropical—storm and the wave it brought with it—dominated our conversation. Sans brought it up.

The wave did most of the damage, destroying homes, separating families… a devastating disaster. So many people had been displaced that families were sought out to host those who'd been lost while the authorities tries to clear out and rebuild.

…some humans wanted to blame monsters and the resurgence of magic for the disaster.

…

A human in a monster home would help paint a good public image. But more than anything, it provided a convenient cover story.

I certainly was _displaced._

_No. No, you're dreaming… this can't be… real._

"Has Sans shown you the house yet?"

My attention snapped back to Papyrus and I lifted my chin off my hands. I had a feeling he was just trying to change the topic.

Sans's smile fled and his sockets curved bashfully as he glanced at his brother. I heard his fingers drum once on the table before he shoved them into his pockets.

A bemused smirk plastered itself on my face. "No. He hasn't."

The look Papyrus shot his sibling was classic—sidelong and stern. A silent admonition.

Sans coughed awkwardly into one hand and shrugged, grin sheepish. "Bro, she just got here."

I giggled in spite of myself, shaking my head slightly. Papyrus's long-suffering sigh only prompted another grin from me. He leaned toward me and stage-whispered, "You'll have to excuse my brother." His eyes slid to Sans, daring him to argue. "He can be a bit slow on the uptake. I don't know what he'd do if he didn't have someone so cool to cover for him."

[oOo]

The brothers called their home "the Manor." Papyrus called it "QUITE GRAND!"

Well… he wasn't wrong.

But just like that moment in the kitchen when Sans turned with a delicate tea cup in his hand, I felt it didn't exactly… fit my expectations. The old gothic estate had dark wood floors, copious amounts of cherrywood paneling and light walls. Apparently the rugs and furniture came with the place and the brothers opted to keep most of it. _I knew it! No way they did their own decorating…_

I'd only been in a house like this once in my life, and it had belonged to a friend's uncle. It had been haunted. It didn't feel so grand as, oh say, _Hill House_ but I couldn't help but pick up some _Hereditary_ vibes from some of the rooms and their arrangements. _Ugh, why am I comparing everything to horror movies…?_ Any additions they'd made were blatantly apparent. Usually items were flashy or colored horrendously. And then there was the living room. A near-perfect replica of their old home, it maintained what I could only think of as a retro 70's vibe. I'd noticed the trend toward the look and color scheme in the basement workshop. The living room definitely had a total "bachelor pad" feel, but somehow they made it… _work._

Papyrus animatedly described the details of the old house's gothic architecture, all with a loving warmth in his voice. Sans slunk along behind, aloof, grin as constant as the Cheshire Cat's. He offered snarky commentary whenever he felt his brother's explanations were inadequate. Which seemed to be always.

Maybe it was Papyrus's infectious energy rubbing off on me, but I felt a misplaced sense of longing. I _wanted_ to belong here. It felt like I could be happy.

…

Which was just weird. Home wasn't that bad. Even if the last seven years had been hell.

Though I'd seen parts of the house already, I remained quiet and at least pretended interest as I followed the tall skeleton. He eagerly pointed out the cozy study beyond the stairs, and the back yard, visible through the windows. "…where there is plenty of room for sparring!"

When we'd finished our tour of the main floor, we stood in the living room. I couldn't help but wonder what fond memories might have prompted them to recreate the home they'd lived in underground. Papyrus described in detail how they'd obtained the large flatscreen TV from Undyne and how perfect it was for their movie nights! He went on, unaware how my eyes lingered on the basement door.

This whole situation felt unreal. My five senses told me it was _happening_ and I needed to be present in the moment, but my mind told me, logically, this couldn't be _real_. Right?

Images of the machine, looming, jarring, and locked away down below sprung to mind. I'd just… blinked and found myself here. I couldn't remember anything before I'd ended up sitting in the workshop. _Nothing_. I knew I'd been home at some point, but it seemed I suddenly… _woke up_ here. _Is it a dream? Like _Inception? _Have I fallen asleep?_

And then there had been the… _feeling. _The odd, thrumming pulse. An involuntary shiver ran down my spine and I bit my lip.

Movement in my peripheral snapped my attention back to the present. I hadn't realized how much I'd spaced out until my eyes drifted to Sans. He watched me through hooded sockets, expression placid, but when our gazes met he winked a socket shut and raised a finger to his teeth. _Our secret._

A chill crept up my spine. I narrowed my eyes.

Papyrus, too focused on his explanation, didn't notice at all.

_Not a word._

I didn't notice when Papyrus fell silent until he stepped up beside me. He gave me a prolonged stare that suggested he'd realized I wasn't paying any attention to his spiel. Rather than comment, he followed my eyes to the door which had so captured my attention a moment ago. Papyrus held a finger in the air as he explained. "That door goes down to the basement! My brother's workshop is down there." He leaned down with one hand to his mouth as he lowered his voice conspiratorially. "He works on all his science-y stuff down there…" He cast a glance at Sans. "For _fun_. He's such a nerd!"

I played dumb and grinned, following Papyrus's gaze to his brother.

"What can I say? No one can be as cool as you, bro."

"Oh, but they can try! NYEH HEH HEH! If you just put some effort into things instead of sleeping all day you could be cool too!"

Sans looked up from where he'd sprawled on the couch. He looked half-asleep already. "…nah."

Papyrus rolled his eyes.

"The basement's off-limits," Sans added. His eyes were closed. He sounded nonchalant, but… I had a feeling it was a warning. _He doesn't have to tell me twice._ I didn't exactly have a strong desire to be anywhere near the monstrosity under my feet. Actually, that still seemed too close for my liking.

"Sans doesn't like anyone going down there but him," Papyrus said matter-of-factly as he turned to continue the tour. He strode from the room. I made to follow him when I felt a small brush against my forearm, a touch gone as quickly as it'd come. My neck craned to look at Sans. He'd popped up off the couch, hands in his pockets. Now his brother was out of the room, Sans's eyes fell, contemplatively, on me.

My fingers rubbed absently against my thighs. After the high tension in the kitchen earlier, I didn't care to stand alone in the room with Sans.

"Hey," he said softly. "Thanks for not sayin' anything to Papyrus." A pause. His eyes shifted. "And going along with his tour. He loves this kind o' stuff." He rolled his eyes, but a fond smile remained on his teeth.

I considered Sans for a moment. He stood at ease, posture slouched in sharp contrast to how he'd leant over the kitchen table not even an hour ago. His face looked softer. I couldn't help but smile, despite any misgivings. "Of course."

"You seem like you're really enjoying yourself."

I'd giggled at Sans's puns most of the evening. And when I wasn't, watching the two brothers interact brought a near-constant smile to my face. Their banter, for all its barbs and rivalry, felt warm and comfortable. Loving. I couldn't remember the last time I laughed this much… I couldn't remember the last time my face _hurt_ from smiling. My eyes crinkled and I answered in passing, "Yeah, I'm having fun!"

"Just remember, I got my socket on you."

A chill ran through me and I paused mid-step. If there'd been background music, it would've screeched to a halt. When I wheeled around to look at Sans, he'd winked his right eye shut. I blanched under the veiled threat, but forced my gaze to level with his. I'd done nothing wrong. I set my brows and raised my chin slightly, determined not to let him intimidate me. I tried to keep my voice light as I winked my own eye shut in a vague imitation of his expression. I fear my smile wobbled. "Look, I'm not out to hurt anyone, Sans. I'm just a girl from–"

"–the American Midwest." We finished in unison.

"Yeah, yeah, you said that." He waved me off.

My brows scrunched as his dismissive tone clawed its way under my skin. "Even _if_ I'm your 'anomaly,' why would I want to hurt anyone?"

"I dunno. Why would you?"

I scowled. _I wouldn't!_

Sans scoffed and completely ignored my put-out face. He didn't let me speak, instead waving off any reply I might have with a flick of his fingers. "Look, so I got another question for you."

Papyrus called from the next room. My eyes twitched toward the doorway, eager for escape. "What?" I asked reluctantly.

The most impish grin I'd seen on Sans's features all night curved his sockets. "Just how tall _are_ you, exactly?"

…

Caught off-guard by the random question, I couldn't hold back a snort of laughter.

Sans's eyes sparked with amusement, at least until I squared my shoulders and stood up straighter. He scanned me, searching for any sign of hostility.

He found none.

_So. I'm short! So what?_

Fan art liked to depict Sans as some sort of squat, dwarfish figure. Next to his brother and Undyne I supposed he might have been… I mean, in-game his sprite came to his brother's shoulders, and most people considered Papyrus "tall"… so maybe I shouldn't have been surprised Sans wasn't exactly as dwarfish as one might expect. He had at least an inch on me, maybe two. I wondered how often he got to gibe at anyone shorter than him.

I rested my hands on my hips, smile broad and defiant as I tilted my chin back. "I'm four-eleven and three-quarters, thank-you-very-much!"

"…and three-quarters?" He raised a brow.

"And three-quarters! That's almost a whole inch! It's _very_ important!" I winked as I wagged a finger.

Sans laughed—a real, genuine laugh—head shaking as he relaxed. My own chuckle joined his as I tried to forget his warning.

"Hey, nothin' wrong with bein' short. I love short people. They bring me _down_ _to earth_."

I raised both brows as I struggled to keep a straight face. "Was that a barb at my _diminutive_ stature?"

Sans snickered. "Only a _little_ one."

…

"YOU TWO!"

Our heads swiveled in unison as Papyrus peered through the doorway, sockets narrowed in consternation. "What could be so interesting about the living room? There's still more to see!"

[oOo]

The second floor split into two wings. One hallway housed the bedrooms and an alcove for laundry—I noted the clothes piles high with a raised brow. The other wing had windows at regular intervals, allowing a clear view of the front yard. I couldn't help but stare. From here I could see a well-manicured lawn and rows of flowers around the front walkway. I gasped softly as I admired the view.

"S'nice, innit?" Sans piped up from behind me.

I glanced back. "Yeah," I murmured. "It really is." I turned to face the pair. "I was wondering, though… how'd you two end up with this place? I mean, it's gorgeous and all, but it seems like a bit much for–" _You._ I caught myself. Too familiar… and Papyrus didn't know I knew anything about the pair already. I corrected myself smoothly, "–a couple of skeletons."

Sans's smiled deviously, "'Cause it's bigger than a closet?"

Papyrus cut in before his brother could make any more bad jokes. "We moved here after Sans blew up the old place!"

…

_What._ My eyes widened as I whipped around to look Sans.

"Eheheh…" Sans's eyes darted to the side as his shoulders hunched. "Yeah… uh. Little mishap with a, uh, pet project of mine. So, we picked this one 'cause it was a bit bigger and uh, the basement is reinforced."

_Although, maybe not enough,_ I thought, if the metal lodged in the wall downstairs were any indication.

"Pet project?!" Papyrus snorted, "Your _machine_ blew up!"

Sans's grin strained. "Yeah, but we wouldn't've gotten to live here if it didn't," he pointed out. "So there's that."

The only thing that kept me from squeaking out my worries about the potential _bomb_ in the basement was the fact I wasn't supposed to _know_ about it… and Sans didn't mention it first.

"Way to be positive," I deadpanned. "So, you seriously blew up a house? Were you guys in it?" I asked, morbidly curious and mildly concerned.

"Well," Sans drawled, "the house didn't really blow up, so much as, uh…" Sans waved a hand vaguely as he looked for the right words, "start existing in a different order. Then it kinda… collapsed?"

"That's putting it mildly," Papyrus huffed, rolling his eyes. "But no. We weren't home. Thank goodness."

O-okay. I wasn't even going to try to figure that one out. What did that even mean, "exist in a different order?" My own smile strained a little. "Well… this place is beautiful. Blowing it up would be a shame."

The taller skeleton shook his head, grumbling something about his brother's "science stuff" then took a breath. "Yes. It has space for Undyne and I to train!" With Papyrus focused back on the positive, my gaze drifted. Heavy-looking double doors were set in the hall's midpoint. They looked like they hid more than just a linen closet.

Papyrus mentioned something about showing me my room, unaware my gaze and mind had wandered. He loped away, arms swinging as he turned back down the hall.

"What's in there?"

My hands were already on the handles before Papyrus responded.

"That? It's just storage."

The boys were already half-way down the hall. I dropped my hands and glanced after them. When it came to a struggle between my curiosity and my need to be a polite guest… well, this time the manners my parents and grandparents had hammered into me won out. I backed away and followed them down the hall.

[oOo]

The guest room was closest to the stairs. I retired before the brothers, a heaviness in my limbs I couldn't explain.

As I laid back on the bed, arms behind my head and eyes locked on the stucco ceiling, I considered the events of the past few hours. I was in _Undertale_. Well, it's world, anyway. And in the presence of some of its characters… some of the most memorable ones at that. The skelebros could easily be considered the game's mascots. I chuckled to myself, placing a hand on my forehead. This was all so… _strange_.

Sans spared no effort when it came to his puns. They rarely failed to get a reaction from me, whether it was a snort and a grin because they were legitimately funny or an eye roll because they were terrible. Sans seemed to have a fair mix of both in his repertoire. Like I said, I couldn't remember the last time I'd laughed this much. With Papyrus present, Sans played the doting older brother. It was a complete one-eighty from how he'd been earlier. He didn't want to let on anything abnormal had happened, and I followed his lead. I wondered if it was all a show for Papyrus, or if he'd really eased up by the end of the night.

Every time I came back to the idea this was all real—I was really here—my heart gave a nervous squeeze and my ears buzzed. Maybe… maybe this was all just a lucid dream. I'd never had one before. How could I know? I allowed the idea this was a dream to build, because I knew if I kept thinking about this evening's events, I'd never be able to sleep. And God, did I feel tired… so very tired.

I don't remember falling asleep.


	5. Chapter 5: Unknown Variables

**A/N:** Sans considers what's happened. This might be harder than he thought.

* * *

Nothing about this day had gone the way he imagined it would.

Sans sighed as he closed his bedroom door behind him and leaned against it. A palm pressed to his forehead, sockets closing as he considered the day's events.

Nothing about any of it made _sense_!

He crossed the room, tugging off his soiled tee shirt in the process, and threw it over his shoulder—it joined the growing pile in the corner. He should probably do laundry soon, but… eh, such responsibility paled in comparison to figuring out what went wrong. Sans fished his old flip-phone from his pocket before he crawled onto his bed to seat himself crosslegged in the middle. He stared unseeing at the device between his fingers.

He'd been so sure of his calculations. So sure of the coordinates and formulas. It should have gone off without a hitch. He tossed his phone absently, sending it spinning a foot in the air before catching it with a _clack_ back in his hand.

The simulations had all gone smoothly. _Perfectly._

The phone twirled up—_clack_—back into his waiting hand.

But somehow, somewhere, the machine malfunctioned.

Something, somewhere, went wrong.

Sans needed to find out _what_.

The phone spun. _Clack_.

He didn't have anyone to blame for this surreal situation but himself. He knew how dangerous messing with timelines could be. He knew better than anyone.

The phone flew up and came down once more. _Clack_. His fingers curled around the mobile.

Sans shook his head, brows tilted as he groaned. _Stars_, it made his skull ache just thinking about it. By all rights she shouldn't even _exist_. Not like… _that_. The poor mobile device in his palm creaked as his fingers squeezed.

The machine itself would have to wait. Right now, he had a more immediate threat on his radar. A scowl settled on his features as he considered his new houseguest.

_Lumena_. The hell kind of a name even was that!? It didn't even sound like a real name. And what was he even supposed to do about her?

There was no denying _what_ she was. Even if the readouts from _TADaS_ weren't clear enough… there was the _feeling_ she left in her wake. Was it just _him_, knowing where she came from? Or had Papyrus sensed it too?

Sans rubbed his fingers against his aching temples.

Sure, she wore a human face, but he couldn't deny the strange aura coming off her—a profound sense of _wrongness_ he couldn't explain. It caused his Soul to recoil, made him want to lash out like a frightened animal. He told himself to give her a chance—maybe he was misreading the situation—but the constant pressure she seemed to exert on him frayed his patience to the point he'd almost snapped in the kitchen when he confronted her. He'd managed to play it so cool, too. Right up until she looked at him, no idea what he was talking about. She was _The Anomaly_. How could she _not know?_

The phone went still in his grasp, then thumped against the sheets as he let it go. It bounced once. Sans cradled his skull, elbows on his knees as he stared hard into his crumpled sheets.

He expected some_thing_ with no ability to comprehend emotion, no ability to understand pain, or suffering. He expected an amoral demon or entity. Something he could hate. Something he could unleash all his frustration onto.

He did _not_ expect to tear the curtain back and see a girl.

What kind of all-powerful entity skitters back like its life is on the line? Unless, of course, it knew it had a life to lose…

_How could she be so… human? Was that really all the Anomaly was?_ What would she do to protect her life? Would she fight for it? _Could_ he fight her? Was she invincible? Was she a demon in the guise of a human?

Sans knew there must be rules guiding the Anomaly's actions to an extent. Had they changed?

There were too many unknowns, too many variables.

…

She _recognized_ him.

The _Anomaly_ knew him, and for all the confusion he could see in her eyes, he saw fondness there too. Even so… this was _The Anomaly_. _Can't trust somethin' like that._ This was a being capable of ripping his happy ending out from under him like an old carpet. She seemed unfazed by everything. Did she take nothing seriously? Okay, so maybe he knew a thing or two about dancing through life, but, _stars_, if the Anomaly were anything like he used to be and just didn't _care_ what happened…

_Then we are royally screwed over. _He scratched at his temple absently. He just wanted his timeline safe. He wanted his happy ending secure. As he felt the familiar fear and hopelessness gathering in his marrow, Sans heaved another sigh and reached for his phone.

…

His fingers twitched, hesitating.

Maybe Lumena was like the kid. Afraid and lonely. In need of a friend. Maybe she never meant to do harm at all.

_Maybe_.

Maybe he could convince her to stop whatever threatened the timeline?

Unless, of course, she was merely playing a game—a wolf in sheep's clothing—trying to lure him into a false sense of security before striking. He'd be damned if he lost everything—_again?_—because he dropped his guard.

But… what if she was just a sheep, lost without a shepherd? If her humanity wasn't just a mask, if she was like…

_Like Frisk._

Frisk had some power back in the Underground after all… did for a while after coming to the Surface, too. Not like this, though. Lu had to be off the scales. The metaphorical bigger fish. Frisk had been small fry.

Sans's eyes wandered to the frame on his nightstand, to the precious photo it contained. Frisk's arms were flung around his neck, a wide grin on her face as he held her on his back. Papyrus leaned over their shoulders, his long arms better than any selfie stick.

Sans smiled. Frisk called him "Papa" for the first time that day. _Papa Sans. Heh. Coulda sworn she'd go with "duncle" or somethin'. Or "puncle."_

Frisk had been a child. A _human_ child. With a lot of DT, sure, but still human. And DT was normal in humans, anyway. She glitches—the timeline would pull back on itself like an old tape recorder set to rewind, but the kid never did anything that could outright _break_ it. Or _erase_ it entirely. Her power had been limited.

Lu… was something else. Had to be. He tried to Check her. _Nothing looked right!_ Either she was innocent as a babe or she was a mass murderer.

_Which is it?_

_Wolf or sheep?_

He could only do one thing, and he'd become quite good at it over his long life. He could wait and see. He must be patient… but he would not be a fool in this timeline. In too many timelines he only stood by and watched. In his dreams, he only stood and watched. _Welp. Guess that's what I'm doin' now too. But if she doesn't anything… _he'd make sure she _knew_ he'd be watching. And he hoped, like a child who knows they're being observed, she would behave. He hoped it would be enough. Because he knew _he_ didn't bring her here. Not purposefully. Not like this.

_What if she decides she doesn't want to be here? Then what? _He didn't even know if he _could_ hurt her if it came to that. His magic might not even work on an entity of her caliber.

…

The machine would be out of commission for a while. He wouldn't be able to determine if the threat had been neutralized until it was back online. In the meantime, there were more practical things he could do to get answers to his questions. He could find out if she was at all human. Really human. He knew at least one expert on Souls… or at least, she'd experimented with them. One person who might be able to help him determine if Lumena were as human as she claimed to be. _Just a girl… hmph._

He flipped his phone open and input the number. For several seconds he remained still, thumb hovering over the dial button… it was late. But he knew she'd still be up. She always answered when he called. He pressed the button and waited for it to ring through.

A click as the receiver picked up.

…

"Heya Alphys. I need a favor…"


	6. Chapter 6: Cause and Effect

**A/N:** Someone else lurks in the dark.

* * *

It was easier to stay Underground. Where no one could see him. Where no one had to know. It was easier to be alone.

_Easier_.

_Ha!_

Days stretched into weeks.

Weeks into months. And those became years…

…

_I'm._

_So._

_Bored._

…

The echo flowers stretched tall around him, whispering static in the background. …_just like my head_. They were silent, watchful giants. His only friends.

_A field of white noise._

He swayed, the only movement in the forest of blue flowers.

Sometimes he talked to them. Just to hear something… _anything_.

But echo flowers didn't talk back; they could only repeat. They could only echo, echo, _echo_…

"I'm lonely."

"_I'm lonely…"_

_"I'm…"_

_"…lonely…_"

_Nothing changes. It's always the same._

What would happen if he just… gave up? It wasn't like he could Reset anymore. He hadn't been able to do that since… not since Frisk came along. Didn't really want to either. Maybe he _deserved_ this… yes, somewhere in his Soulless existence he _knew_. He most certainly deserved this. For all he'd ever done.

Sometimes he thought he saw their faces. His mother and father. Sometimes he thought they were here… but a trick of the light, or his own head. He didn't know which. He wanted to see them so badly… but he couldn't see them. He just couldn't. And they would never come to the Underground. Not now, when they were free. Why would they ever come to this starsforsaken place?

_I should just give up._

Flowey closed his eyes. He didn't know how long it had been. But he could see no point in dragging this lonely existence out. He didn't know if the DT flowing through his system would let him, but, if he just _let go_, would he drift away? He'd almost succeeded before.

His roots curled, leaves twisting as he willed himself to _sleep_.

…

Then he felt it.

A ripple through the Underground. It shivered in his magic, through the core of his being. So small at first he thought he imagined it. His brow furrowed and he waited.

Nothing happened.

He closed his eyes.

…

It happened again. Stronger, this time. The whole of Underground seemed to quiver as something shifted, tilted, _changed_ so drastically he could feel it in his roots. Like a wave it flowed over him; like a breath it passed through him. He could not deny what he felt as his magic responded, almost pulling him apart. Flowey's head shot up, petals wide as his eyes darted.

"What was that…?" He whispered.

The flowers around him parroted his question back to him, their voices a wondering facsimile of his own.

_"What was that…?"_

_"What…"_

_"…was that…?"_

_"…that…?"_

He could still feel the shiver of magic in the air; he knew it wasn't some figment in his head. He could _taste_ it in his leaves. Something fundamental in the world had shifted. A new player had joined the game.

With nary a thought he traveled his old tunnels, following the rootways he'd made long ago to the place where once the Barrier stood, trapping him and his kin Underground for millennia. He could see the blue sky, tantalizingly near… but he knew better than to try to leave the mountain. His roots wouldn't—couldn't—go that far. So he peered toward the horizon, a teasing glimpse of all the things he could never have. Everything looked the same as it always did.

_…so what if something's different. I'm still stuck here._

He sighed, closed his eyes as he withdrew, back into the shadow of the mountain. Ready to wither and die. So _what_ if something changed? So _what_ if there was something new and unknown out there beyond the familiar Underground? _He_ was still trapped. So he returned to Waterfall, swayed under the echo flowers, waited, wondered if he shouldn't just go to sleep. It didn't matter that he physically couldn't.

How long did he sway, mind wandering? It could've been hours or days. He could scarcely tell the difference anymore.

…

_"You cannot give up!"_

He jolted. "Who was that?" Had he imagined it?

_"Do not give up! You must stay Determined."_

He stared at the field all around him, dark eyes round as his stem bobbed. He feared to hope.

_"Stay Determined!"_

No… he heard it! He definitely heard it. That voice was _real!_ Someone was _out there!_

"Sh-show yourself!" His voice cracked.

_"We cannot be seen… but we are here now. We are with you."_

A shiver caused his leaves to rustle. "Who are you?"

_"Shhh… it matters not who we are," _the voice assured him quietly. "_You want to see the surface, right? You want to leave the mountain, right?"_

Flowey bobbed, lips pursed as he considered. "I already tried to get to the Surface. I can't. I just… can't."

No answer came. He waited so long in the silence he wondered if he had only imagined it after all. Then the voice came back, soft as a whisper amidst the field of echo flowers.

_"We can help you."_

The echo flowers seemed to quiver, swaying, repeating the sentiment:

"_We can help…"_

_"We can help…"_

_"…help…"_

_"…help you."_

Flowey's petals curled skeptically, hopefully. "_How?_"

_"We still have some power. We can help your roots grow. Will you let us go with you? It is all we ask in return. We must go with you."_

How long had he been down here with only echo flowers for company? How long had he waited to see her again? How long…? And she never came to see him! What did he have to lose?

"…okay."

No answer came forth, but a warmth the likes of which he'd never felt before spread through him, from his petals to his roots. He felt his entire network light up; he could see further than he ever had before. He felt like he'd been blind until this moment. An overwhelming flux of thoughts and feelings came to him… but he recognized they were not his own. He never felt anything. This other being… was it them? It must be! He could see color and light, and… and he _must reach the surface._

_Come! Let us go to the surface together!_

He did not know whose thought it was. His or theirs. It did not matter.

…

For the first time, Flowey rose beyond the caves. He uncurled his leaves and basked in the sunlight… the _real_ sunlight. It was warmer and brighter than he ever imagined it could be.

_We will have so much FUN together…_

"Yes," Flowey agreed softly. "Yes, we will."


	7. Chapter 7: New Day, New Town

_I tried to ignore the signs. I saw them, I just… didn't want to think about what they meant. The clock in the kitchen. The family on the fridge. This couldn't be _real_, I thought. _None_ of this could be real! So I denied it. I pretended the disquieting feeling in the back of my mind was nothing more than my overactive imagination and it was all _okay_. I pretended _I_ was okay. I pretended Sans's subtle threat hadn't bothered me. It was a dream—a strange, amusing dream—and I'd wake up._

_I didn't want to believe this fantasy could be real. It was like some weird fan fiction. I mean, can you imagine what it's like to wake up from what should have been a dream, only to find it wasn't? I sure couldn't. It was easier to think I'd made it up than to accept the strange, new reality._

[oOo]

I sighed softly into my pillow. I could feel the morning light on my eyelids. _Already?_

I still felt exhausted. If it weren't for the tantalizing smell of bacon assaulting my nose and the clang of pots and pans from downstairs I would have been content to remain in bed for at _least_ another hour…

…

_We don't have a downstairs._

My eyes snapped open as I jerked upright. I ignored the spinning in my head. _It wasn't a dream. I really wasn't dreaming. _The pale walls definitely weren't the steamship blue of my room, nor did I recognize the white and blue duvet I'd thrown myself on top of the night before.

I took a steadying breath and tried to ignore the way my heart seemed to lodge itself in my throat.

_Right. So. This is really happening._

_…_

_No point moping._ I swung my legs around the side of the bed and got to my feet. The clock on the nightstand read 7:15am.

Too early.

But the promise of a good breakfast was more than enough to motivate me. After making sure I was at least somewhat presentable in the attached bathroom, I made my way downstairs.

[oOo]

The soft sizzle of bacon and Papyrus's gentle voice as he hummed an unrecognizable melody drifted from the kitchen.

_Papyrus. Sans. I'm _in their house_… how? This is too surreal._

I couldn't bring myself to enter the kitchen right away. The tightness in my throat returned.When I finally gathered the courage to step through the doorway, I put on my best sales associate cheer. "Good morning, Papyrus!" All smiles and _I'm perfect-thank-you-how-can-I-help? _…you learned to bullshit a lot in sales. Believe me. I know. And right now, I clung to that false cheer, because otherwise I might panic. _Not sure if this is terrifying or awesome._

The skeleton turned from the oven, a bowl tucked under his arm and whisk in hand. He wore an apron with distinct red frills; it declared "Made with Love" in a curling script font. Below, in much smaller print, it added "and some other — !" The last word had been scribbled out and replaced with "STUFF!" in bold marker.

My eyes crinkled, amused. I couldn't decide which I found more funny: the profanity on the apron or the way Papyrus had altered it himself.

"Good morning, human! I hope you like bacon and eggs." He waved his whisk enthusiastically, flicking egg unknowingly across the kitchen. He poured his whole being into each movement as he swept passionately across the kitchen to snag up spices and ingredients. The apron seemed remarkably appropriate… _I don't think he knows how to make things without love._

My smile warmed as I watched him for a moment, but I soon found myself automatically scanning the countertop. There was just one itty-bitty, teensy-weensy necessity for this morning—or any morning, really. _Ah! There you are!_ I practically bounced over to the coffee pot. Turned out it was loaded and ready to go, courtesy of Papyrus.

I rocked on my heels, impatient for the _Black Juice of Life_ to brew.

"Do you need any help?" I asked, turning to the skeleton.

Papyrus paused just long enough to flash me another grin. "Oh no, you're our GUEST! GUESTS do not work in this kitchen! Go ahead and have a seat! It'll be done soon."

I shrugged and took a seat on the far side of the table where I could watch. I'd rather have kept my hands busy, or… _anything_. Even this early, my mind wanted to wander. _How. How could I _actually_ be here?_

It had something to do with Sans's machine. That much couldn't be more obvious. _And here I'd always assumed it was some sort of time machine._ I'd be staying for a while if the cover story was anything to go by. Given the state the machine was in when we left the workshop last night, it hardly came as a surprise. Then there was the other pressing question: _Why?_

Sans would have answers… but somehow I knew it wouldn't be easy to get them out of him. Sure, he may have _brought_ me here, but he'd made it pretty clear he wasn't _happy_ about it. He thought I was the anomaly. Whatever that meant. And last I checked that title didn't belong to _me_. Well, not _exactly_…

My stomach pitched.

…

So, maybe… if the game had anything to say about it, I guess I probably _could_ be—_was heavily implied to be_—the anomaly mentioned by Sans. _As if I have some power or gift, some ability to alter time! Ha! As if… I wonder what he'd say if I told him it was all a game to me? …oh._ That didn't sound good, even in my own head.

Even if I were an—the—_Anomaly_, I didn't deserve to be treated like a criminal. He acted like he wanted to tear into me… My fingers scratched absently at the dark wood. It hardly seemed fair to be judged as if I'd done something terrible, especially as I looked at the happy skeleton rushing around the kitchen.

_This is a happy ending. Shouldn't Sans be glad…?_

"Human Lumena…" Papyrus's voice pulled me back to the present. "Is something wrong?"

I straightened in my chair, expression smoothing. "No, no, of course not. Sorry… I didn't mean to space out on you." I plastered on a broad smile. "Just takes me a bit to get going in the morning!"

Papyrus looked skeptical and opened his mouth to say something–

Right on cue, the coffee pot signaled it had finished.

I took the interruption happily, slipping from my chair to make myself a cup. Papyrus indicated a corner cabinet filled with a few mismatched mugs—more the style I expected versus last night's tea cup—and I pulled down a decently-sized one. I couldn't wait to get some caffeine—a jolt to my system was just what I needed.

…

Breakfast tasted as marvelous as it smelled… apparently, the years on the surface had done wonders for his cooking. _I wonder if he took lessons from Toriel? _And yes, Papyrus _did_ boast about it. And why shouldn't he? As it turned out, he made some _mean_ scrambled eggs; they were perfectly blended, fluffy, and lightly spiced… huh. Different. But in a good way!

When we finished, I took each of our plates.

"What are you doing?" Papyrus asked as I waltzed past him, dishes in hand.

I grinned at his scandalized expression. "The dishes! You cooked. I'll clean. A fair trade-off, right?" I shoved my sleeves up to my elbows.

He sighed, resigned, "Very well. If you insist. Thank you, human!"

I chuckled and started rinsing.

"Eh, human…"

I hummed softly in response, fingers continuing my work absently.

"I couldn't help noticing… those are the same clothes you had on _yesterday_."

I paused, fingers tightening around the sponge in my hand. I pursed my lips, heat flushing my face. _Of course he'd notice…_

"Don't you have anything else?"

…

"Well… no," I murmured. My hands stilled as I clutched the plate between them.

Reality threatened to crash down on me like a tidal wave. I tried to shove it to a distant corner of my mind, tried to lock it away where it couldn't bother me, where I didn't have to acknowledge it. But all the same it settled and twisted.

I had _nothing_.

Literally just the clothes on my back.

I had no phone, no identification, no paper trail… unless there was another me out there, I didn't exist. I was in _another world_. In, presumably_, another universe_. I frowned down at the plate I'd long since finished cleaning, mouth suddenly dry. Good thing my back was to the skeleton; I didn't want him to see my downtrodden face, or explain the wince as I felt a pang in my chest. I set the plate on the drying rack with a soft _clink_.

"I lost everything." That much was true, at least, and fit in with the refugee story. _I don't understand why Sans wants me to lie to his brother anyway. What difference does it make?_

When I finished and turned to face him, Papyrus wore a thoughtful expression. "Well. That settles it!"

I blinked in confusion and leaned against the counter. "Settles what?"

Papyrus's eyes lit up as he stood from his chair and placed his hands on his pelvis. "We are going shopping!"

_What._

I'm sure I pulled a face. "Papyrus, I don't exactly have any money–"

"Of course you don't!" Papyrus cut me off with a wave of his hand. "But I will not hear of you living under our roof in your present state! Your clothing is WRINKLED! YOU REQUIRE MORE! I will not have anyone looking at our human–"

_Our human?_

"–and seeing anything other than how VERY WELL CARED FOR SHE IS!"

I stared at him, wide-eyed as everything he said sank in.

"Papyrus, I–"

"I'll hear no more of it! Besides! YOU MUST SEE OUR MALL! IT IS TRULY THE GREATEST!"

I wouldn't be able to talk him out of it. Besides. He was _right_. I didn't even have a comb or toothbrush! Being presentable hadn't been at the top of my priorities this morning, but… I needed to think logically about my situation. If nothing else, I could focus on what I needed now instead of worrying about the future or _how_ or _why._

[oOo]

Papyrus practically bounced up and down when he showed me his bright red muscle car. _Oh, I know there's a joke in there somewhere!_ The convertible fit the skeleton… but I did _not_ feel like dealing with windblown hair. At all. I convinced him to leave the top up.

Our drive didn't take long. Papyrus had no idea I'd never seen New Town before, and the moment he uttered the name I barked out a laugh. I couldn't help it! _New Town?_ Another brilliant name from King Asgore… "Hey, at least it's easy to remember," I assured him when I glimpsed Papyrus's indignant expression.

According to Papyrus it had been one of the first settlements on the surface. As if the name weren't a dead give away. The town itself wasn't far from the Manor and had a blink-and-you'll-miss-it sort of atmosphere. Reminded me vaguely of my grandma's old neighborhood. Rows of perfect houses, perfect lawns… all very _Edward Scissorhands._ The further we drove, the more commercialized it became, until we came to a well-populated downtown. There were so many monsters, so many things I'd never seen before. Or, if I had seen anything like it, it was with a top-down, pixelated perspective.

"It's so peaceful," I murmured.

Papyrus made a sound of agreement.

I turned in my seat to look at him. "Has it always been like this? Since monsters came to the surface, I mean."

Papyrus pondered the question before he answered. "No. When we first came to the Surface, it was chaos! Humans and monsters together again for the first time in centuries! But it wasn't bad. Most humans are very amicable toward monsters now—not at all like they were in the history books! We were able to build up a community in no time at all and now, well, here we are!" He gestured enthusiastically. The car jerked. I wished he'd keep his hand on the wheel.

…

We pulled into a vast parking lot.

New Town Shopping Mall was lit in neon, its logo made of pastel pink and green. _Apparently the skelebros aren't the only ones caught up in the old-school retro look. Maybe it's a monster thing?_

"What was it like underground?" I asked as we stepped from the car. "Did you know a lot about the surface before you came here?"

Papyrus answered as we approached the main entrance. "We had a library chock-full of information on monster- and human history in Snowdin—that's where my brother and I were living when monsters were freed!" He held the door for me. "And we had a dump! With even more books! It was like a second library! Only it was a dump."

"And you guys kept up with everything happening on the surface? Technology and stuff?"

Papyrus actually chuckled. "Well… at the risk of not sounding very Great at all, the truth is… we had some catching up to do in the technology department when we got to the Surface. But we had magic, and power—The Core. Surely you've read about it!" The skeleton wrung his hands together, step slowing to look down at me. "We had as much to offer humans as humans had to offer us. Outside of our WONDERFUL FRIENDSHIP, of course!"

I grinned, eyes twinkling as I looked up at him. "I'm glad everything worked out so well."

"Well, why wouldn't it?"

…

_Wow. He's alarmingly positive, isn't he?_

I stared up at Papyrus for a moment. _Undertale_ suggested things were peachy on the surface for monsters and humans. Could a picture-perfect universe like that even exist? Somehow I doubted it. "There's no racism? No tension at all?"

"Well…" Papyrus paused, head tilting as he peered at me dubiously. "Aren't there monsters where you came from?"

I paused mid-step to glance back at him.

All these questions… I wondered if they might be common knowledge in other places, but for me? These details after the story were all _new_. I was under no illusions—Papyrus wasn't stupid, and I needed to remind myself I had a cover story to maintain. I wasn't supposed to be from another _world_. I mentally backpedaled, and my answer came out quieter than I meant. "My community was small." I kept as close to the truth as I could. "I like to think we'd be open to their presence if there were any, but…" I shrugged, voice trailing. _We don't live in a perfect world. …well. I didn't._

I couldn't speak for monsters. But humans? Humans couldn't even live in peace with each other. It didn't matter what world you lived in. "I guess the small community makes it hard for me to imagine what it's like in bigger towns where there are humans and monsters together. I don't know how well they get along and I… well, I don't—didn't—keep up with the news so much. I just know the world isn't perfect."

"If the world were perfect, monsters would not require a wonderful mascot such as myself! We will all live in peace together! Everyone can be good if they just try—and we can make this world a better place together when they do!"

My smile was genuine as I stepped into the mall beside him.

Even this early on a Saturday, monsters scurried to-and-fro. Youngsters dragged their parents down the wide aisles. My head pivoted as I tried to keep up with the amazing sights and sounds around me. So many fascinating and terrifying shapes… so much more variety than I'd ever been exposed to in my entire existence.

When we passed a family of dog monsters, I couldn't help but hold my hands to my face and dance from foot-to-foot. They had kids—Puppies?—little bipedal kid-puppies! I nearly squealed. Papyrus had to place a hand on my shoulder to stop me from approaching the small family in my enthusiasm. I barely noticed their suspicious expressions as the parents ushered their puppies along on the opposite side of the aisle. Papyrus informed me dog monsters were… very protective of their broods. I offered a sheepish grin and managed to compose myself.

I tried not to stare overlong at a man(?) resembling a giant foot as Papyrus lead me toward a directory. Some of the store names I recognized. Others were entirely foreign. There was one called "Forever 22" and another called "Young Blue"—that one drew a chuckle out of me. Papyrus didn't understand what I found funny. As he browsed and murmured aloud a list of things he thought I might need I tuned him out, gaze wandering.

A monster that looked like little more than a giant green man with horns and a tail stalked by. And just across the way? A tall, lanky monster with hot pink scales trying on a yellow feather boa… not even sure what they were, actually. Didn't stop me from grinning ear-to-ear as they flaunted their new accessory. The few monsters who noticed my stare received a quick smile. Most of them offered a wave or smile in return—at least when they had expressions I could recognize. Kinda hard to tell when a foot is smiling at you. Others shied away. _Must not be used to humans… which is fine. I'm not used to _them_ either._

"All right! I have a plan!" Papyrus straightened, one boney finger held in the air.

"We need a plan?"

Papyrus scoffed. "OF COURSE WE NEED A PLAN! There are many shops and only so many hours in a day!"

I shook my head, a smile tugging at my lips. "Papyrus, you're not planning to go to all the shops, are you?"

Papyrus frowned as he rubbed his chin. "Well, of course! We have to go to all of them to make sure we get everything you could possibly need!"

I rubbed my arm and looked up at the tall skeleton with a tiny smile. "I appreciate your… thoroughness, but I'm pretty low maintenance." _God, I can only imagine how my sisters would flip if they had to sleep in the same clothes and then hang out with someone…_

Papyrus finally relented, and our spree began in earnest.

If this is the part where you expected a shopping montage, well… you'd be disappointed. Like I said, I'm low maintenance.

By the time we'd finished, a couple hours had passed and Papyrus had two bags of clothes (just a few things because I refused to allow him to buy every single thing I eyed) and I carried another small bag of necessities (because I refused to allow him to carry everything).

I'd find a way to pay him back. Somehow.

We were on our way out when a sweet scent wafted past my nose. A shop full of vibrant color caught my eye. I recognized the array of goods immediately and my inner child squealed in delight. I took hold of Papyrus's forearm—_Oh weird. Bone!_—to get his attention. "Oh! Papyrus! Look!"

Before I could stop myself, I trotted over to the vibrantly-colored storefront.

Papyrus tilted his head as he lumbered along behind me, sockets going between me and the shop. He'd been patient with my meandering up to this point—I was usually quick shopper anyway—but I could hear the doubt in his voice as he followed me in. "You _need_ candy?"

I snorted. "No! I don't _need_ candy, but…" Before he could say another word I stepped into the candy store, eyes roving the shelves with a profound sense of nostalgia. I could hear Papyrus grumbling as he skulked behind me, eyeing all the sugary confections like they'd jump off the wall and strangle him if he let his guard down. I looked back at him and grinned. "Oh, come now, Papyrus. It's not _that_ bad," I said as I nodded a greeting to the girl managing the storefront—some sort of bird monster. She twittered a nervous hello.

I perused the goods for a minute before my eyes fell on a black, square package. I grinned. "Oh my goodness. Papyrus!"

Papyrus squinted over my shoulder.

My eyes glistened as I clasped my hands together. "They have _Pop Rocks_. Have you ever had Pop Rocks? We have to get them." My voice deepened as the stream of words came out in one breath.

"Pop… Rocks?"

The questioning look on his face was all I needed to see. I turned away to hide my devious smile. "Oh! Oh my gosh. Can we get some? You've got to try them."

"What's so good about them? They're just candy." Papyrus stared down at the little package as he plucked it from the shelf, flipping the little pouch over and shaking the candy inside curiously.

I laughed. "They're not 'just candy.' They're _popping_ candy!"

"Yes. I see that. They are called 'pop' rocks," he deadpanned. "Are they made of rocks?"

I schooled my expression as I looked back up at Papyrus. "Uh, no. But seriously! You've gotta try them."

A few minutes and some convincing later we walked out of the store with several packages in a variety of flavors. I had no idea what would happen if a skeleton monster tried to eat candy or if it would even work if he didn't have a tongue (did he have a tongue?), but the impish side of me was eager to find out.

I tore open a package as we made our way past kiosks and families with small children. I hardly noticed the stares I received as I bounded ahead of Papyrus and walked backward so I could hold out the packet to him. "Come on! You've just gotta try them! Just a few."

The skeleton rolled his eyes, hand reluctantly raising to accept. "If you insist…"

"Oh, I _do_!" I poured the small green crystals into his palm, grinning all the while.

Papyrus eyed the confection for a moment, suspicion in his sockets as he looked between my face and the sugar crystals. I poured a few into my own hand. "We'll both have some. How's that? On the count of three."

"This looks like pure sugar. It is bad for your teeth!"

I ignored him. "One…"

Papyrus huffed. "You can't make me!"

"Two…"

Papyrus sighed and rolled his eyes. "But I suppose I mustn't let you suffer alone!"

"Three!"

I licked the rocks from my hand. The first delightful tingle and pop as the candy reacted prompted a giggle.

Papyrus threw his back. His sockets narrowed and his jaw twisted as if he were puckering.

And then I heard it. The first, soft _pop!_

I grinned, popping my lips as I flicked my fingers outward, "popping" them in time with my lips.

His eyes widened as the candy crackled in his mouth. When all was said and done, Papyrus giggled like a kid despite his best efforts to remain stoic. "How… odd! Delightful. But odd! Humans come up with such strange things. This candy feels like magic!"

I giggled. "Yeah! Aren't they cool? You should see what happens when you pour them in soda…"

We were still grinning and laughing when we reached the exit. I paused, eyeing the bags hanging from Papyrus's arm. "Hey, Papyrus?"

He turned to look back at me.

I felt my face heat up. "Thanks so much. For everything." I lifted one bag-laden arm. "I'm not sure how I can pay you back, but…"

Papyrus silenced me with a look and a broad grin. "Nonsense! Consider it a gift from the Great Papyrus himself! And as your gracious host, you are welcome! Now you can be stylish and almost as cool as me!" He brought a hand up to his "COOL DUDE" shirt. "I have a wonderful fashion sense—I'm certain you will look fabulous in your new clothes!"

I rolled my eyes at his egotistical remark, but in the end I stared up at the skeleton gratefully, warmth tingling in my cheeks as I marveled at his kindness.

_…_

The ride back to the Manor was spent listening to oldies on the radio. I found a station playing _The Beatles_ and we both sang at the top of our lungs as "A Hard Day's Night" came on.

"HOW CAN ONE POSSIBLY SLEEP LIKE A LOG!? LOGS DON'T SLEEP!"

I could only laugh and shake my head as we arrived back at the Manor.


	8. Chapter 8: New Day, New Town, Pt II

The bright sunshine Papyrus and I enjoyed on our way to the mall was devoured by swollen gray clouds by the time we arrived back at the Manor. We all but ran from the car to the house as the first droplets came… in ones and twos at first, then more, faster. It was a torrential downpour before we ever reached the front steps. The few seconds we were in the deluge left us both drenched from head to toe.

I flung the door open for Papyrus, then ran in close behind him and slammed it shut. I laughed in spite of myself, back pressed to the front door. Droplets flew from the ends of my hair as I shook my head, and water pooled around my feet as my clothing dripped onto the bone-shaped welcome mat.

Papyrus shook his head like a dog, flinging water from his skull in a small torrent. He scowled when he saw my grin.

"Free shower?" I giggled, flinging my hands out to dramatically sling water from my fingertips. "What a perfect way to end the afternoon," I added, tongue-in-cheek, nose scrunched, grin still firmly in place.

"Humans are weird," Papyrus mused as he looked at me. He set the bags down at the base of the stairs so he could shake yet more water from his sockets.

I stared for a moment, wondering if it was anything like having water in your ear… I always hated the muffled, swishing sensation. I'd never felt so blessed to have skin before. Then again… he didn't seem to have to deal with being cold. Meanwhile, I could already feel a chill trying to seep its way into my bones. At least I'd have warm clothes to change into now!

"Your magic doesn't repel the water or something?" I asked, crossing my arms for some small amount of warmth. It didn't work.

"Oh, it does! In a downpour like this one, some always seems to get through anyway," Papyrus explained.

"I guess you didn't have to deal with rain like this underground, huh?" I said as I shook more droplets from my fingers and started working on getting my shoes off. _There's nothing worse than peeling off wet socks._

"No. Nothing like this." Papyrus groaned, a hand cupping his ear(?) as he drew out more water. "Are you familiar with the locales of the Underground, human?" Papyrus asked, peering up at me as he bent his head over.

"A little."

"The closest thing we had to rain Underground was in Waterfall. It was always very wet there…" His brows lowered as he all but smacked the side of his skull with a hand, head tilted so far to the side he was nearly level with me. He grumbled, shaking more water from his cranium. "Undyne lived in Waterfall! It was the best place to train! There were so many places to climb and jump, different things to try… and the water glowed!"

"It sounds beautiful." The luminous water against the stark black of Waterfall had been gorgeous in-game. It remained one of my favorite locations, and fan art always seemed to depict it beautifully. "I bet it would be amazing to see," I mused aloud.

Papyrus straightened, jaw hinging to speak.

…

"Bro!" Sans's voice interrupted from the living room, followed by the skeleton himself. He paused in the doorway to take in the sight of his bedraggled brother, the shopping bags at his feet, and the sopping wet human.

"_Wet's_ up?"

Papyrus huffed.

I grinned behind my hand, eyes crinkling.

Sans took a moment to appreciate his handiwork before he straightened, face stern. "I've been tryin' to get a hold of you."

Papyrus and I exchanged glances. When he looked back at Sans, his sockets widened. "Oh!" Papyrus turned this way and that, patting his pockets. His brow twisted when they came up empty. "I seem to have misplaced my phone. Er, I mean—I left it charging! Probably. How irresponsible of me…" His voice was small. "Is everything all right? I know how you worry–"

"Woah, woah! Slow down Paps!" Sans smiled reassuringly, palms out. "Everything's good."

Papyrus's fingers rubbed absently along his knuckles. "Hmph! Well! Still. It is hardly responsible of me to have left something so important. I shall have to do better! After all, what if you had come across trouble without me here to get you out of it!? What if you got stuck in the wall again?"

_Stuck. In the wall. The f–_

"I would never have heard your call! For I would not have my phone!" The ivory along Papyrus's cheekbones colored and he fixed his eyes into the middle distance as he posed dramatically. Er, heroically.

"Don't worry about it, Paps… I just thought we could use some more ketchup is all. No biggie."

_Seriously…? He just wanted ketchup? _Yeah, somehow I doubted that. _Then again, this _is _Sans we're talking about._

"You guys have fun at the mall?"

Papyrus spoke up before I could. "Sans! We went into a candy store!" For a moment, Papyrus looked scandalized. Then he grinned from ear-to-ear as he dug through one of the shopping bags. "Look! They're called Pop Rocks! They pop! In your mouth! And they are not rocks!" Papyrus pulled one of the black candy packets from his bag and held it in front of Sans's face eagerly.

Sans went cross-eyed staring at the paper pouch. "She… managed to drag you into a candy store? Wow. Color me impressed," he said. "I can't get him to touch the stuff. What's your secret?" he stage-whispered to me, a thumb poking in his brother's direction.

"Sugar really isn't good for you, Sans!" Papyrus huffed. "BUT JUST THIS ONCE I MUST MAKE AN EXCEPTION!"

I remained silent, happy to let Papyrus distract his brother. That and… I was curious. Sans had no obvious hinge along his jaw like Papyrus. His mouth didn't open when he spoke and he seemed to make the ketchup disappear through his teeth last night. Over dinner I'd been too flustered to pay much attention. Did his mouth open? Or did food just magically disappear? Try though I might, I couldn't resist staring as Sans's mouth opened. His teeth parted and he poured the rocks back. I thought I spied a faint glimmer—magic?—before he clamped his mouth shut again. He didn't chew.

Sans winked when he caught my stare.

I decided the wall to my left was _very_ interesting. Also very white.

"You know where to find the good stuff." I could hear the candy beginning to pop behind his teeth.

Papyrus grinned, sockets bright. "And to think! We never would have brought them home if I did not suggest a trip to the mall!"

"Wish I coulda seen your face," Sans said, words punctuated by a steady _snap-crackle-pop!_

My head whipped around to look between the brothers. I beamed, leaning forward on my toes as I peered up at Sans from under my sopping wet hair. "Well, next time you should totally come with us!" I pushed a strand away from my forehead. _…would there be a next time? I mean, who knows how long I'm here for. But that'd be so cool! Mall trip with Sans and Papyrus!_

Sans shrugged noncommittally before his eyes wandered to the multitude of bags situated at Papyrus's feet. "So. What'd you get?"

"There you go being _nosy_ again–" I heard Papyrus gasp "–and you don't even have one!" I said good-naturedly, eyes narrowing. "I needed a few things…" I rubbed my arm, smile fading. "I hope that's okay. I, uh… I didn't have any other clothes, or… a-anything," I fumbled awkwardly, words fading the more I thought about what I said.

I didn't even think about it before now. Did the brothers share an income? Did Sans work? Or did they have plenty of money to spare after coming to the surface? Evidently they could afford a small estate, but… in spite of what Papyrus said, I felt myself shrinking back, uncertain. _Undertale _implied Sans was the one who _actually_ owned the house in Snowdin. He paid for it, provided for his brother. He was the practical one when it came to monetary matters, from what I could gather. _Probably all those side jobs…_

So… did Papyrus buy those things for me using Sans's money? I did _not_ need another mark against me. Yeah, sure, Sans said Papyrus "worked" as an ambassador, but Papyrus? He called himself a _mascot_… what did he _actually_ do!?

"I'll find a way to pay you back." The words tumbled from my mouth before I could stop them.

I tried to make sense of Sans's apathetic smile as he considered me, hands shoved in his pockets as usual.

Papyrus stomped a booted foot, but I didn't take my eyes off Sans. I could feel the tension like icy claws closing in on me. Or maybe it was only the chill from the wet clothes. I shivered.

"BUT! It's a WELCOMING PRESENT!"

"Okay." Sans said. His smile looked predatory.

"Okay?" I responded uneasily.

His smile grew. "Yup. That's what I said. You can pay me back."

_Hooboy._

"You get to do my chores for a week."

…

I backpedaled. "What?"

Sans's eyes darted as he rocked on his heels. "Yeah. My chores. Y'know. Laundry, cleaning, dishes. I mean, you don't have any money or anything, right? Or are you secretly a millionaire?"

I laughed nervously. It sounded easy enough. I was expecting worse.

"Also, I was kinda thinkin' it was time to clear out the storage…" He tapped his chin thoughtfully.

…

_Okay. Maybe I spoke too soon. I don't even know what's hiding behind those doors, but there are _two_ of them…_

"BUT!" Papyrus interjected, voice raised in exasperation. "BUT!" I cringed at both its pitch and volume. "It was a WELCOMING PRESENT!" He repeated.

"I know… and I'm very grateful, Papyrus," I said before he could interject.

Papyrus pouted. He may not have had lips, but I knew those puppy-dog eyes anywhere on anyface.

"It would make me feel better if I did something in return," I added gently.

Papyrus sighed in defeat. "Let me take these upstairs for you, at least!" Somehow he managed to have an edge to his voice. He snagged up the bags before I could stop him… even if I'd wanted to. Once Papyrus walked—and by walked I mean stomped—up the stairs I turned back to Sans.

"So, I do your chores for a week and we're square." I smiled as I thrust my hand toward him, fingers wiggling. "Deal?"

Sans stared down at my hand for a moment before he clutched it in a firm shake. "Deal."

Once he pulled his hand from my grasp to tuck it back inside his pocket he turned toward the kitchen. He seemed to think better of it however, and paused before he got through the doorway. I thought I could see his hand fidgeting in his pocket. "Oh. I almost forgot…"

He turned on heel to face me, sockets dark. His serious expression had me fidgeting at the hem of my shirt. "Next time you decide to go somewhere with my brother… let me know first, would ya?"

He appeared calm, but the way his sockets dimmed and the tight smile he wore now… I swallowed and hesitated. Even if his empty sockets weren't a dead give away, I could _feel_ the ice in his voice.

He worried about his little brother… of course he did. I had sisters. How many boyfriends had I glared at from across the room? Even though I felt I knew Sans, I was a complete stranger to him. One he assumed could be dangerous "Yeah, of course. We should have said something or left a note… I guess I'm a little out of sorts after yesterday."

Sans's expression eased slightly at the sight of my thin smile. "Hey, buddy. Don't look so glum… just… let me know next time."

"Okay."

Satisfied, Sans turned to go, but not before calling over his shoulder. "Didn't mean to _rain_ on your parade."

That one got a quick smile out of me, just in time for another shiver to wipe it away.

"Welp. _Water_ you waiting for? Don't you have some new digs to try on?" Sans added, shooing me toward the stairs. "Better go make sure you don't need to make any returns."

I waved him off with an easy grin. "Yeah, yeah…"

[oOo]

A hot shower warmed me up and gave me time to clear my head.

…

I felt like I'd gone crazy.

I was in another world. _What happened to mine?_

Were my bills, responsibilities—my life—continuing without me at this moment? Did my family know I was missing? Or had I just been pulled from my world entirely and they had no idea… like I never was?

_…_

_Like… Gaster?_

…

I mean, part of me was _thrilled_ to meet these amazing characters—_people_—and experience this world. That said, this wasn't… well, a fan fiction. I couldn't expect things to be magically amazing when I'd just popped up in a strange basement. Sans was a neat character. He and his brother had this wonderful relationship in _Undertale_… and I thought it'd be cool to meet them. They seemed like fun guys to be around.

_Heh. Now I can confirm. They are._

Sans's reaction to our meeting put a damper on my enthusiasm, however. He definitely didn't like me. Or at least didn't trust me. Which begged the question: why did he pull me into this world? How? …could I get back? Whatever happened, finding out more or getting back would require his help, which meant staying on his good side… and I had a feeling I already wasn't.

And that brought me back to his words at the bottom of the stairs.

_Next time you decide to go somewhere with my brother… let me know first would ya?_

Simple as the question was, calmly as it was delivered… the more I thought about it, the more his words perturbed me.

_What did he think I was going to do!?_ Papyrus took _me_ to the mall, not the other way around! I scrubbed the shampoo against my scalp harder than necessary and told myself I worried too much. I was probably reading into things again. I really ought to know better by now.

Besides… if I thought someone was a dangerous being from another world and I knew next to nothing about them, I guess I'd be pretty worried too. I couldn't deny it stung, though. I sighed and let the steaming water wash over me. I just wish it could wash my worries away too.

[oOo]

The rest of the weekend flew by. Monday afternoon found me with the house to myself. Sans was… _somewhere_. I'd hardly seen him at all since Saturday. I had chores I'd promised to start but… I still had questions for the skeleton. When I did finally catch a glimpse of his blue hoodie, he was halfway through the basement door. I only just managed to stop him before he could close it.

"Hey, wait!" I crossed the living room in two bounds, reaching out to grab his sleeve. "Hey, Sans–"

He tensed under my grasp and his head snapped around. _If looks could kill._ My words died on my lips and I let go. His scorching glare sent a chill through me and I stepped back like I could actually be burned. I cleared my throat softly, unsure what exactly I'd done to earn his ire.

He glanced at my face and with some effort his expression softened, but his voice betrayed his tension. "Yeah?"

"I, uh, just… I wondered…"

"Well? Go on. What did you wonder?" He prodded, brow quirking.

I swallowed down my nerves and tried to smile again. "Could we talk about what happened sometime? I'd like to know more. Like… why I'm here. _How_ I'm here."

"Getting all philosophical on me now, huh?" His sockets curved.

I tapped a finger on my thigh, lips pursed. I was being _serious_!

Sans crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe.

"Look, I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot," I continued, shrugging off my frustration. "I mean, this whole situation is weird, right? For _both_ of us." I paused. "I know you didn't just want ketchup the other day." I saw his brow lower. "You were worried about Papyrus and I… I understand that. I know you don't know me, but. But I'd never hurt him."

Sans raised a brow. "You goin' somewhere with this?"

I frowned. "Yeah! You're treating my like I'm someone awful. Like I would hurt him or something… but that's the thing: you don't even know me. You haven't even given me a chance. Maybe we could just talk a little or… or _something_…" My voice faded. I swear the room got chiller. I couldn't read his expression at all and I didn't know if I'd caused offense by calling him out. I fumbled, squeaking a soft, "…or not." _God, I don't do confrontation._

I tried to reorder my thoughts when he didn't respond. "I get what it's like to worry about your sibling… I may not be really clear on what I'm doing here, or why, but my point is: I'm not here to hurt anyone, even if I am this… _anomaly_ of yours." A pause. "Especially Papyrus. Papyrus is so cool!" I grinned and hoped my lingering nervousness disappeared with it. I mean, it _didn't_, but I could try, right? "I still can't believe he took me _shopping_… he didn't have to." As I spoke, I tugged absently at the sleeve of my new shirt.

The mall trip was definitely going on my list of strange-slash-cool experiences, right up with getting sneezed on by an elephant.

Sans didn't say anything. I recognized the expression from the kitchen a few days ago—the long, searching look. His sockets narrowed slightly and his smile had become a hard line. He was looking for answers…

_Answers I'm pretty sure I don't have._

…

_Okay. This is officially awkward_. My courage began to fail me and my shoulders slouched. _This is the part where you back away slowly and pray the floor swallows you up._

"We couldn't exactly leave ya with nothin', could we?" He pushed away from the door. He continued watching me even as he turned toward the basement. "Look, I'm sure you've got a lot on your mind, kid. There's a lot to unpack. Believe me, I get it. For now, you worry about settling in. We can talk more when I don't got my hands full with the machine." He hooked a thumb toward the basement.

I rubbed my arm, a pinch of anxiety still running through me in spite of his reassuring words. "Yeah… okay."

"Okay." Sans flashed a grin before he turned to go.

"Sans?" I called after him.

He turned again, brows raised in a classic "what now?" expression.

"How long?"

The skeleton tilted his head, smile shrinking, eye lights dim. "Huh?"

I had the odd feeling he knew exactly what I meant. I clarified anyway. "How long? How long do you think I'm going to be here?"

His eyes darted. His finger clicked against the doorknob. "…like I said. Worry about settlin' in. We'll have time to talk and figure it out. 'Til then, don't sweat it, Lu."


	9. Chapter 9: Face the Music

_I had to, didn't I? I had to accept it. As the new reality sank in little by little, the hard, logical side of my mind kicked in too. I needed to deal with this… situation. I couldn't mope around the house, and questioning what the future _might_ bring wouldn't help my position either. __Besides, if I was really honest with myself, my home life hadn't exactly been peachy. In some ways, it was as if I had a new start. I felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. It was refreshing, even if I had new challenges to face in this new world. I decided I'd live in the moment._

_Oh, don't get me wrong, I _did worry_. A tangled welter of emotions and thoughts only continued to grow the longer I stayed in the Manor. But there was nothing I could do until I learned more._

[oOo]

Cleaning kept me occupied. Especially since Sans proved difficult to pin down. It seemed like we were never alone together even when Papyrus was away.

The looks Sans sent me over dinner when Papyrus wasn't paying attention were enough to give me pause. He didn't trust me… and I understood that. Still, it felt unfair. I didn't know if he thought I'd blow the cover story we'd established or if it had to do with what I'd said about giving me a chance. He gave Frisk a chance, did't he? What made me so different?

It wasn't uncommon for me to feel a little squeamish by the end of our shared mealtimes. I did my best to shove the feeling aside, however. Sans was never over-the-top rude, especially when his brother was around, but he felt like a storm cloud and his distaste seemed palpable when he wasn't joking or goofing off. Didn't Papyrus notice? Or was it… only me?

So yeah, I felt a little on edge. I wasn't his enemy. I didn't want to be. And I'd be damned if I let him get to me. I'd done _nothing_ to deserve those censuring glares.

The pervasive feeling he was avoiding me entirely added to my growing apprehension. If that wasn't enough, then my multiplying list of concerns did the trick.

My head kept wandering back to that first night in the kitchen. I could still hear Sans's chastising questions echoing in my head—my own denial ringing in my ears.

_…I think you've got me confused with someone else_.

And I still thought it might be true. It felt like he made me out to be someone awful without ever expressly saying so. Could I convince him I bore neither of them any ill intent? Was it even possible if Sans assumed the worst of me?

With nothing but what I could gather from Sans's words, I knew the machine and the anomaly—_me_—were linked. Somehow. I didn't know _how_ the machine worked. I didn't even know if it had a _name_. All the unknowns hung over my head, weighting my shoulders. I understood how meta _Undertale_ had been… which meant as much as I denied it, I probably _was_ the anomaly Sans mentioned. Still. What did that even mean? Why bring me here at all?

I felt a small pang in my chest I couldn't explain as I considered… maybe Sans was worried about another Reset?

Maybe.

But as far as I could tell, I still had no special powers over time or space. I was _just_ human.

Only human.

A human who'd been thrust into a world both familiar and unknown. Everywhere I looked I saw keen reminders this wasn't my home. Not even my world. I could _almost_ pretend I was visiting a mountain estate, maybe on vacation, but then I'd see photos of monsters or hear a snippet on the news about monster-human politics… and a little piece of me would seize up in fascination and fear.

A vacillating desire to sate my curiosity formed within me. There were so many things I _didn't_ know about this world… but the unknown terrified me. I didn't know how long I'd be here. I didn't know how long the machine would be out of commission. I was afraid to consider the implications of its existence. Were there other universes out there? Other timelines? Had this ever happened to anyone else before? _Undertale_ was definitely a bit _Timey-Wimey._ Especially if you peered into the fandom.

I didn't know _what_ to do with my nervous energy. Ignore it? Yeah, ignore it.

…

_Ugh. I'm just going to end up giving myself a headache at this rate, anyway._

Yeah. Cleaning was definitely easier than thinking about everything.

So.

I focused on the mundane tasks set before me. Cleaning, at least, was something_ normal _I could do.

Papyrus didn't seem too thrilled I was taking over his brother's chores ("SANS IS ALREADY A LAZYBONES AS IT IS!"), but I reminded him it was only for a week. A small way to repay them for a roof over my head and dry clothes to sleep in. Besides, I'd made a deal—a solid promise in my book. Nothing Papyrus could say would sway me.

I hummed my own little tune as I worked. I missed my phone—my music—after being here a few days. I missed being able to submerge myself in another world (_haha, I'm funny, I know_) with my headphones in. Part of me felt like a kid, stuck in the '90's again… pre-texting, pre-Google, and utterly isolated.

…

I minded less than I thought I would.

I started with laundry.

…

Seriously, who knew a skeleton could go through so many clothes?

And socks.

There were so. many. socks.

And Sans liked to leave them in random places.

And by random I mean the middle of the living room floor.

It seemed the moment I picked up one sock another would replace it the very next time I walked through the small room.

I finally dubbed it Magical Living Room Sock.

I _swear_ it was the exact same sock with the exact same dubious stain on the toe. _Every time_. Except the pile of dirty laundry kept growing, so they couldn't all be the same one, right? How many pairs did Sans even have!? And I'm pretty sure I'd picked up an odd number. Like …_what even?_

The days passed quietly enough. I stayed chipper.

With Papyrus out of the house during the day I was left to myself. I knew Sans was around. Somewhere. But he preferred to spend his time in his workshop or his room as far as I could tell, and I steered clear of both. Or he steered clear of me. I couldn't tell which. I avoided them to respect his privacy.

_I'm not bothered by the short skeleton at all. Nope._ Denial.

…

When I did finally run into the skeleton again it was in passing, just like before. I'd just picked up Living Room Sock—_again_—when Sans came shuffling through. I looked up and he spared me a glance, eyes flickering briefly to the sock in my hands. I saw his mouth twitch.

I perked up slightly when our eyes met, opting to ignore his smirk. "Sans?" The note of hope in my voice was enough to give him pause, and he glanced back as his hand came to rest on the doorknob. On his way to the workshop again. "Any luck with the machine?" I asked softly, watching as his finger _tap-tapped_. I hadn't forgotten how he'd responded last time I asked, and I hoped my rosy expression might prevent a reoccurrence.

He angled his head as he looked at me from the corner of his eye. A heavy pause. The basement door swung open and he stepped through as he answered, "Still got some things to figure out."

"But–"

The door shut behind him before I could ask more. I stared after him, stomach lurching at the evasive treatment. "…okay. It's okay," I told myself as I returned to cleaning. No need to let it bother me. He was probably stressed. Or something.

I could tackle the kitchen. I could play housekeeper for a few more days. Had to.

_…apparently I have time._

Another twenty-four hours lapsed.

The kitchen had been spotless in just a couple hours. Well, mostly. Apparently Sans found time to balance a cup of water above the cabinets.

…

When I replaced the mop and broom, it found my head. And the clean floor. _Huff_. All right, so right back to mopping. I wondered when the skeleton managed to sneak in and set up his little prank.

The week pressed on and I managed to find a few more. Or they found me. Well-placed whoopee cushions, mostly.

And an incident involving glitter.

It found the carpet. Also my head. Again.

Water was one thing… but glitter? The vacuum could suck all it wanted—the fairy vomit wasn't going to come up any time soon! The damnable _Herpes of the Art World_ seemed to magically multiply every time I ran my hand through my hair.

Annoyed though I was, I didn't let it get to me. I knew Sans was a prankster. Part of his MO. If anything, I figured getting pranked by the skeleton was a good sign. I liked to think it meant he was a little more comfortable with me.

By the latter part of the week, I decided it was _time._

…

Time to tackle the storage.

I couldn't tell if he'd been serious at the time, but… he _did_ mention it. And it wasn't as if I had anything better to do. Even so… what did Sans want me to _do_ with it? Did he seriously trust me with his things? I figured it couldn't have been anything too priceless if he didn't mind me going through whatever was beyond those doors. That or he just didn't care. Or intended to keep me busy.

Or prank me again.

Yeah, that latter one definitely seemed like a possibility. _Ugh. There's still glitter coming out of my hair._ I'd find a way to get him back… someday. Eventually. Until then… whatever. I wouldn't complain. I felt like I was earning my keep with cleaning. At least until I could figure something else out.

I shoved my sleeves up and prepared myself for what might very well be the most daunting task I'd yet faced…

Well, other than Magical Living Room Sock. _At least this one makes it an even number… I think_. I was starting to lose count.

[oOo]

I approached the double doors, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious—I didn't particularly feel like being the butt of another prank—and placed a tentative hand on either handle. I got the sense it'd been a while since anyone had bothered with storage. I sighed. _Let's get this over with._

I pressed the handles down and heaved.

Turns out, the doors weren't _nearly_ as heavy as I anticipated. I stumbled through as they swung forward, staggered, missed my footing, and landed hard on my hands and knees. My hands smacked the floor; I only just kept my face from meeting the wood.

"Ugh… Lu, you _klutz_…" I groaned, knees smarting and hands stinging from the impact.

When finally I drug myself to my feet and looked up, I froze, breath catching in my throat. "W-what?" I breathed, eyes round. I glanced left, right. I glimpsed a raised platform… and _that_… that was…

…

I backed out of the room slowly, closing the doors behind me so I could lean against them. I rubbed my palms into my eyes. _What._

_…_

Just _what._

…

I ran back down the hallway. I nearly leapt down the first flight of stairs, excitement bubbling over as I skid to a stop at the top. With a little help. From the wall. Papyrus and Sans had been holding a hushed conversation. _Had. _Both brothers turned in unison when they heard the solid _thud_ as I collided with the wood paneling. Even if that hadn't been enough to get their attention, my shout sure did. "_GUYS_!"

I regained my balance and pushed away from the wall. I didn't miss how they exchanged curious glances, each with a raised brow. I probably made for quite the sight with my chest heaving and eyes wide—almost frantic with excitement—and a wide grin plastered on my face. "Why the _hell_ would anyone use a room like _that_ for _storage!?_" I pointed in the direction I'd come from.

"LANGUAGE!" Papyrus admonished on reflex, then raised a brow as he gathered what I was talking about. "And… why not!? It is a grand room that must store grand things! Though why Sans has you cleaning it I'll never know." _Grumble grumble._

Sans shrugged.

It took everything in me not to snort at him. Nevertheless I continued to grin as I shook my head. I bounced on the balls of my feet like a kid at Christmas. "Guys!" My words came out in a breathless rush, "You practically have a _ballroom_ upstairs. And a piano. There's a _piano_! Did you know you had a piano?!" I could already feel my fingers itching to play.

Papyrus scratched his head, mouth twisting to speak, but I was already gone—dashing back up the stairs before either brother could comment further. I think Papyrus yelled something about dinner, but I was too excited to listen. I had just the extra motivation I needed—a new mission in mind—and I was determined to see it through.

…

I wondered why they'd choose not to use it. They called it "storage" but it clearly _wasn't._ I mean, _seriously… what's wrong with it?_

High vaulted ceilings, elegant chandeliers, dark wood. A fireplace at one end. The most impressive windows open to a stunning view. The setting sun streamed in, illuminating swirling dust motes like stardust.

_God, it's gorgeous. It'd look great with a Christmas tree!_

I felt like Belle in Beast's castle. It may not have been a stories-tall library, but it maintained a sense of grandeur. It was magical enough for me, anyway. I twirled, arms out as I sashayed gracefully along the floor—dancing, pirouetting—until I slammed my toe into a particularly solid sheet-covered chair.

"Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow…" I hissed, bouncing comically on one leg as I held the abused foot between my hands. _That's what I get for daydreaming._

I glanced up as I placed my foot down on the floor again, pain all but forgotten. Shoved to one end of the room and protected by dust covers were several chairs, end tables and a multitude of other… things that seemed like they shouldn't be here at all. Knick-knacks. Odds and ends. A bone-shaped marble sculpture. _Seriously? Where does someone even find something like that? Did the commission it?_ There were several more large shapes that may or may not have been mirrors or paintings. I hesitated to look. _Those can wait_.

For now, I stepped up to the central window—the largest of the five illuminating the room—and stared out onto a sprawling view of the brothers' back lawn. It went back, reaching to the tree line and…

_The mountain_.

Mount Ebott loomed on the horizon, taller than anything I'd ever seen with my own eyes. It swallowed the sky.

Breath stolen, I could only lean against the window and stare up. _Guess that explains why they'd rather use this room as storage. Who'd want to see the reminder of their captivity on full display every day?_

Still… why would they choose to live in the shadow of the mountain they'd been trapped beneath for so long?

…

I snapped myself from my musings and lifted my hand from the window sill. My fingers were covered in dust. I scowled.

_Right_. So this place hadn't been touched in ages. _Yeah… I definitely have my work cut out for me._

…

I found the switches and turned up the lights; the chandeliers cast a warm glow in addition to the sun's light. I set determinedly to my task, removing covers and arranging the furniture into something sensible. I set the chairs to face the fireplace—angling them gently—and found better places for the "knick-knacks" and end tables. I felt grimy and much in need of a shower by the time I finished, but a satisfied smile tugged at my lips. I wiped the glistening sheen from my brow. I'd have to take a mop and broom to the floor later, but for tonight I felt safe calling it quits. Well… almost.

I wasn't done quite yet. My hands landed on my hips as my eyes turned to the opposite end of the room, to the raised platform in the floor I'd noticed earlier. More specifically, I eyed the sheet-covered instrument sitting on top.

My hands lifted to my face wonderingly as I stepped toward it, eyes glistening and fingers fidgeting as I fought to contain my excitement.

_…I wonder if they'd mind?_

I placed a hand on the sheet.

_Is it still in tune?_

My hand fisted, bunching the white cloth.

_When was the last time anyone played it?_

One sharp tug and the sheet flew up—dust and all—into the air and onto the floor beside me.

The piano was simple and upright, with dark wood polished to a shine. Its French legs curved elegantly. The wooden bench matched… and the feet even ended in small paws! I couldn't stop the delighted squeak in the back of my throat as I clapped my hands together, fingers straight and tall like a prayer. I pressed my thumbs to my lips, eyes darting.

_No one here but me. Just me…_ I took a seat and pushed up the cover to reveal ivory keys; my fingers feathered over them, tender and longing.

…

I'd been too old when I first took lessons. Mom didn't really have the money, but Grandma helped. My teacher had been a harsh woman but I'd persisted for a year before I finally withdrew. I don't even remember why. I never stopped playing, though. My knowledge of the instrument was far from complete. I didn't let that hamper my enjoyment, however. Even as I grew up and life's demands grew along with me, I always found time to play… and that I did for myself. I could lose myself in the music. In the songs. In the puzzle of the notes.

Years of playing came back like riding a bike. I played one chord, then another and, slowly, scaling arpeggios. Finally, a soft ballad began to form, its melody only vaguely familiar to me. It rose and fell, and with it a sense of peace begin to fill me. I sighed, eyes half-lidded as I basked in the calm.

Maybe playing piano was only another way of keeping my hands busy—another way of distracting myself from the reality of being in another world. Of taking refuge in a familiar stranger's house.

Maybe.

I leaned into the music as the song swelled, soared.

I didn't know how much I needed this. My shoulders dropped as the tension eased… I hadn't even realized how much I'd been carrying…

A throat cleared behind me. "Wow, didn't know we had a pianist in our midst."

My fingers slammed the keys as a strangled gasp caught in my throat. My back went ramrod straight for a moment before I twisted to look behind me.

Sans stood, hands in his pockets, a cheeky grin on his face.

Papyrus stood beside his brother, hands held to his cheeks, sockets sparkling. _How do sockets even sparkle?_ His cheek bones blushed rosy in the fading sunlight. "Wowie! Oh! Don't stop on our account!"

I shrank, face burning, eyes darting between the pair. My lips flapped soundlessly.

Sans's chuckle broke me from my stupor and I scrambled up from the bench awkwardly, limbs flailing as I battled the rising heat in my face. _I'm supposed to be cleaning._ I combed my fingers through my hair, heedless of the dust they added. _How long were they there? _I tried to swallow down my nerves, lips between my teeth as I replaced the lid.

I all but stumbled down from the podium. "It's amazing it's still in tune," I said, trying my best to pretend I hadn't just been scared out of my wits or caught playing. _Oh God. I hope I didn't upset them by playing without asking. …or, you know, rearranging the room._

I fidgeted.

…

"You've gotten a lot done," Sans commented, pretending not to notice my stunned expression. He stepped further into the room, eyes roaming, inspecting. Like it wasn't his fault I'd jumped out of my skin in the first place.

"Impressive, especially for such a small human!" Papyrus added, hands falling to his pelvis as he tromped toward the old fireplace.

"Hey, my height has nothing to do with it!" I scoffed playfully.

I saw him swipe a hand along mantel. I hadn't dusted there yet and subconsciously cringed as he withdrew it to inspect his fingers.

"Yeah, Paps!" Sans, to my surprise, backed me up. "You really oughta appreciate the _little _things."

I raised my brows as his words sank in. I pursed my lips in a desperate bid to squash any laughter that might result from jokes at my expense. Papyrus was thoroughly distracted with his dusty fingers.

"I mean," Sans continued, "you gotta hand it to us short people. We probably couldn't reach it anyway."

It was a losing battle. I bit my lips to keep from giggling.

"Sans!" Papyrus warned, sockets rolling as he finally realized what was happening.

I felt a little less awkward anyway, and managed to sober. "Hey! I said I'd do it, didn't I? I'd clean. I just didn't expect the storage to _not_ be storage. Seriously! Who uses a room like this as _storage!_" I watched as Papyrus tested one of the wingback chairs in front of the fireplace. He all but fell into it… all I could see from this angle was the back of his head and a small cloud of—you guessed it—more dust. _Can skeletons sneeze?_

Sans shrugged as he ambled over to me. "Well. It's storing things. I never said _what_. Never said you had to do all this, either." His gestured to the room around us.

"No kidding!" I grinned, shaking my head a little. "…anyway, uh. It was a nice project. I hope it's to your liking. And, uh… sorry. I saw it and I couldn't resist." I gestured uncertainly toward the piano. "I should've asked."

Sans let my words hang in the air a moment before his teeth quirked. "It's no _skin_ off my nose." He winked as he moved toward the windows. The light spilled around him; I stared at his back, cast in shadow.

"R-really?" I tripped over my words as my enthusiasm got the better of me. "I can play it?"

Sans rolled his eyes, good-natured smile still in place. He raised his brows. "I dunno. _Can _you?"

My brows furrowed and my lips quirked. I narrowed my gaze on him, reminded far too much of the sort of thing I used to do to my mom when she'd use similar colloquialisms. I wasn't used to having it turned on me. "_May_ I play it?" I corrected myself with a chuckle, one hand still on my hip.

Sans shrugged then added, "I'm more of a brass guy myself…" There was a twinkle in his sockets as he looked up at me.

…

Papyrus plodded up beside his brother. His sockets were already narrowed, a hint of warning in his voice. "Sans…"

"In fact," Sans continued, heedless of his brother's glare as he looked at me and leaned casually against the windowsill. He crossed one foot over the other. "I play the trom-_bone_." He waggled his brows.

_How. The. Hell? He doesn't even _have_ eyebrows!_

…

"SANS!"

Sans's smug grin cinched it, and I found myself covering a laugh with my hand.

"_Note_ need to get all bent outta shape," Sans said, flashing a glance at Papyrus, palms out.

"SAAAAANS!"

Sans blipped out of the way, vanishing entirely, just as Papyrus took a swing.

I nearly doubled over as I watched the pair, my hand practically a permanent fixture of my face as I tried and failed to stifle my laughter.

Papyrus huffed, eyes seeking out his disappeared brother.

I glanced toward the fireplace when I glimpsed Sans peeking over the back of one of the wingbacks, phalanges wiggling as he waved at us both. He propped his elbow on the back, cheek resting in his hand. "I guess that one fell kinda _flat_."

I grinned as I walked over to him. He had never directly answered me, and a flicker of doubt lingered in the back of my mind. "You really don't mind?"

"I told ya it was fine. Or didn'tcha believe me?" He tilted his head. "Migh's well see the thing get some use." Sans mirrored my growing smile.

Papyrus came up behind me. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "YOU MUST PLAY MORE! And of course, you should tell me, the Great Papyrus, as I have a most keen ear and excellent taste in music. I will be the only audience you ever need! NYEH HEH HEH!"

My face flushed with the praise. It wasn't _that_ great… Papyrus didn't seem to notice how my thanks stumbled out, or how I clutched the edges of my shirt.

Sans, on the other hand, did. His expression seemed to soften. "We came up to get ya for dinner. Meal's on the house tonight since we got a concert." Wink.

"Is that so? Well… umm…" I had no clever comeback. Still a little flustered from the praise, all I could feel was the heat on my face and the uncertain flutter in my chest. I could feel their eyes on me, and for the life of me I couldn't shake the feeling of being in an unwanted spotlight. "Yeah… I'll be down soon. I seriously need a shower. Umm. I'll just… go… do that."

I shuffled back and started for the door, gaze set determinedly forward.

It wasn't just that I'd been startled by their arrival, or felt awkward for not asking to play _first. _I'd always felt it was rude to just… _touch_ someone else's piano. Yeah, I know. I'm weird. But pianos are very special instruments, you know!

My hand rubbed at my collarbone.

But.

_They enjoyed listening. _I'd seen the look on Papyrus's face. I didn't have to be embarrassed or ashamed, or feel like– _Stop._

Still. To think someone _actually_ might enjoy… I didn't even realize I'd come to a complete standstill.

"Hey, Lu!" Sans called to me as he hopped from his chair to pace leisurely behind. "What's the difference between a fish and a piano?"

_…another joke?_

My head turned. Sans stood, watching me from the corner of his socket, eye lights flickering as he waited.

…

I decided to bite.

"What's the difference?" I asked.

"You can tune a piano, but you can't _tuna fish!_" Sans grinned, dodging the smack Papyrus aimed at the back of his skull.

…

Everyone knew that one. But Sans's delivery… my face screwed up as I held back another laugh. _It's not even _funny_! I swear!_ And here I was, laughing along anyway, like I'd never heard it before. Maybe it was a pity laugh. It _was_ a godawful joke. But I felt more of the tension melt away regardless of its poor quality. And it distracted me. _Did he do that on purpose?_

Papyrus let out an ever-loving _shriek_, all but roaring about his brother's poor taste in jokes as he lunged toward the shorter skeleton. Sans darted under Papyrus's arm, disappearing out the doors with Papyrus close behind. I shook my head as they passed me by, Papyrus shouting something about Sans and his jokes and serious moments and I just…

I laughed.

I laughed until my face felt hot. Until I felt my eyes water and my cheeks ache.

…

It felt right, watching the two of them joke and prod and annoy each other. Like brothers should.

I rubbed my face absently, surprised when I pulled my fingers back. Where did these tears come from? _Wow. What the hell Lu. Why are you getting so emotional over something so little?_ I dismissed it as hormones or something equally ridiculous as I sighed.

I made for my room, determined to keep my smile in place.


	10. Chapter 10: Nice Cream

**A/N:** Had a serious bout of writer's block in the middle of this one. There's still more to come in terms of plot and development. I'm trying to keep chapters to around 3k–5k words so they don't take more than 10–15 minutes to read. That, and editing the chapters gets daunting because I take forever… because I am a perfectionist. Argh. That said, this is part of a two-part chapter… I decided to split it because I'm not happy with the second half yet, but I wanted to give you guys an update.

Anyway. Kudos if you can point out certain references. ;)

…and feel free to ask me (or the characters) questions.

* * *

_After nearly two weeks in another world, I'd noted small changes in how Sans treated me. Sure, I hardly saw him and he punned a lot when I did, but fewer of them were at my expense. I liked to think he glared across the table less. Maybe I'd misread him. Still, I wondered if I wasn't making it up because it was what I wanted._

[oOo]

I woke in the middle of the night, heart racing. I couldn't go back to sleep, and after laying in bed for nearly an hour I finally gave up. Might as well get up for the day. Not even Papyrus was up yet… which was probably for the better. A metaphorical rain cloud hung over my head, tainting my mood along with it. I wandered the house in dismal silence and tried to ignore the fog that seemed to have overtaken my mind. Had it been a nightmare? It wouldn't surprise me. My imagination liked to come up with _worst-case-scenarios_. Tended to be its default unless I was… occupied with something else. Sure, I kept up some of the chores. Busy hands, and all that… but I definitely had more downtime than before.

It was impossible to focus when I was like this. I decided in those wee hours I'd do something different today: I'd go to town. Maybe I just needed a break in the small cycle of routine I'd formed during the weeks since I'd arrived. I felt cooped up. I needed to stretch my legs, get out some of my excess energy. As morning rolled around and the sky went from dark blue to hazy morning gray, I prepared for the day ahead. By the time I was ready, I'd seen Papyrus off to work. I took a small breath as I reached the front door. My hand rested on the knob. The sun was up. It was a beautiful day outside. Birds were singing…

I stepped out.

The ideal summer weather proved to be one of those strange reminders I was somewhere _else_. Back home, it'd been early November. It had been wet, cold, rainy, and there'd been one exceptionally early snowfall. I'd been dressed for the cold when I arrived in this world. Now I wore a black tank top and light jeans in a desperate bid to beat the heat I knew would come later. I'd tied a hoodie around my waist, telling myself I might need it if the sun was too scorching on my shoulders, but… I doubted it.

The forest around the estate gave it a sense of privacy and seclusion, but town hadn't seemed terribly far when Papyrus and I went to the mall… at least from what I could remember. The driveway was shaded by trees anyway, so I wouldn't spend too much time in sun on the way there. I set off down the pavement.

Sure enough, it didn't take more than ten minutes on foot before the driveway met the main street. The sidewalk stretched as far as I could see in either direction. I seemed to recall taking a left into town a couple weeks ago, so I decided to trust my gut. I generally had a good sense of direction, and figured I wouldn't go far enough to get lost anyway.

A car went by, its motor revving gently as it turned the corner at the end of the street.

_It feels so normal._

Back home, I had walked through town often. I enjoyed letting my mind wander as I observed other passersby and normal daily occurrences. Just as I was deciding this excursion was exactly what I needed, I found one of those sharp reminders that, no, this wasn't my world: a portly, six-limbed insect monster watered his flowers across the street. His white collar shirt was tucked into his slacks and a gold watch hung loosely around one of his wrists.

My step caught and I stared. His gaze met mine. My two eyes and his many: big, green, compound orbs like some sort of fly. _Creepy._ I shuddered.

I knew it was rude to stare, but in all fairness, he was doing it too. We both took a moment to adjust to the sight of one another: I, a human seeing a strange monster, and he, a monster seeing a strange human. I guess that made us even. We exchanged awkward waves and fleeting grins… at least, I think he grinned? He had some sort of proboscis where his mouth would've been. He buzzed pleasantly enough, anyway. I continued on and dismissed the awkwardness as I picked up my pace.

I passed the perfectly-manicured lawns and pastel-colored houses I remembered from my first trip into New Town. Even waved a friendly hello to a small imp monster. He scurried inside when he spied me, beady eyes round.

I didn't see many humans. As in, I didn't see _any_. At all.

I wondered if I wasn't a walking novelty in such a quaint town. It felt like everyone knew everyone. I passed neighbors having friendly conversations over white picket fences. I pretended not to noticed how they lapsed into silence when I passed by.

Maybe if I got to know them—and the town—better, that would change. _Maybe I could find a job? _The walk hadn't been bad. I could invest in some hobbies while I waited instead of twiddling my thumbs. Sitting around feeling useless hadn't done me any favors and mooching off the two skeletons didn't exactly appeal either. Plus, I could meet some of these wonderfully strange people I passed on the street. Would they hire a human? I wondered.

I reached a four-way stop. A sugar-sweet scent lingered in the air, appetizing and familiar. I figured I must be getting closer to downtown. I could already feel the heat coming off the concrete in waves and beads of sweat were beginning to form along my brow… the sun would only get hotter from here. It was a little humid for my liking as well, but this was my first venture beyond the house. I couldn't let the heat stop me, not when I'd come this far! I peered both ways—even though there wasn't a single car in sight—then skipped across the crosswalk, making a game out of the white lines while no one was watching.

_No point in being grown up if you can't act childish sometimes._ I smiled to myself as I rounded the corner, only to grind to a halt as a small cart came into view. Its bright red and yellow umbrella made it impossible to miss. Of course, that wasn't really why I stopped.

The cart read "SANS's Nice Cream." His name had been added in bold letters. The blue paint clashed with the red, old-fashioned font beside it. My artistic sensibilities screamed at the atrocity that had been committed. _Could he do any worse?_

The skeleton himself stood behind the cart with his sockets shut as he snoozed in the shade provided by the umbrella. I couldn't help but notice he wore his hoodie in spite of the heat—didn't seem the least bit bothered by the temperature. I could already feel my face scrunching into a confused smile as I stepped closer.

Sans looked up as I approached, evidently not as asleep as he appeared. He took in my befuddled expression and leaned on his elbow over the makeshift counter. I imagined he had one toe kicked out behind him, pressed into the pavement as he waited. I thought he looked bored, but it was hard to tell past his typical, placid smile. "Well, look who's walkin' around."

_Hooboy._

"Sans? Hey there." _What is he even doing out here?_

He tilted his head, cupping his cheek in one hand. "What? You didn't think I sat around at home all day, did you?"

I blinked owlishly. It took me a moment to find my voice again. "Uh, not anymore?" I smiled awkwardly as I wiped at my brow. Sans was the last person I expected to run into. Given what I did know about him, maybe I shouldn't have been surprised. "…you have a Nice Cream stand?"

The skeleton chuckled. "Ah. Seemed like a _cool_ gig. Why not?" Wink. "So. Wanna buy some Nice Cream? It's just 15G. Whaddaya say?" His eyes glittered under heavy lids.

My brows furrowed and I opened my mouth–

"Hmm. Yeah. You're right," he said before I could respond, fingers clicking together. "25G sounds better."

"Uh… right." Yeah. Intelligent. I know. Did I mention I was tired? _You _try getting caught off-guard by Sans the Skeleton! He reminded me of that one annoying uncle you only ever saw at Christmas and did something like spike the punch or put salt in the sugar shaker. Hell, Sans probably _had_ done those things at one point or another. I wouldn't put it past him. Still, he rarely failed to get a smile out of me when he wasn't giving me the stink eye. Even today, when I felt particularly tired. Still. That rain cloud lingered and I wasn't particularly in the mood for small talk.

I glanced down the empty sidewalk. No customers. Just me, Sans, and his(?) Nice Cream cart.

I wanted a break from the Manor for a little bit. Which may have included Sans. He'd spent the first week giving me the stink eye over Papyrus's shoulder, then made it very clear he didn't trust me around his brother. This week had started with evasion and more pranks than I could shake a stick at. The pranks I could take in stride at least, knowing it was normal for Sans. I wouldn't allow myself to take them too personally… besides, part of me hoped it meant he was actually warming up to me.

I wanted to get along with Sans. Really, I did. I realized, too, it would take effort on my part. We could get along well when Sans wanted. Still… there remained a certain lack of resolution concerning the machine and our initial meeting. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation talking, but the atmosphere in the Manor seemed oppressive today. Like I couldn't breathe. And I'd just wanted to get away for a while. "This has been pleasant–" sales associate smile "–see you later, Sans." I hope he didn't catch the exhausted strain in my voice. I backed away from the cart to step around it.

I made it a few steps down the sidewalk before Sans called after me. "What, no Nice Cream? On a hot day like this?"

I rolled my eyes, perfectly aware he couldn't see the gesture, then sing-songed over my shoulder. "No money!"

"Oh. Didn't I tell you? The first one's free."

One brow raised as I turned around.

Sans had turned to face me. He was propped on his elbows now, ankles crossed. I wondered how his back didn't hurt from slouching so much. He sniffed softly as he inspected his fingers. "No, it's fine. I can see you're busy."

I scoffed as my eyes narrowed on the skeleton. Irritation flickered to life in my chest before I could stop it. _This asshole…!_

"Or maybe Nice Cream ain't your thing." San shrugged as he straightened, hand waving lazily through the air. "How 'bout some lunch instead?"

_THIS ASSHO–_

…

_What._

My irritation dissipated into confusion and then, finally, mild disbelief.

Okay, so I know what you're thinking. "Lunch! With Sans the Skeleton! It'll be _awesome_!"

Oh, believe me, I definitely _wanted_ to think the same thing. In fact, the first thing I _did_ think of caused my cheeks to redden. I hoped Sans would dismiss the flush as nothing more than the sun. It was getting a little warm out here, after all. Or maybe it was just me. I'd read one too many fan fics where Sans went with the reader-slash-love interest to Grillby's. I didn't know whether to smile or just laugh in his face.

_Well, I'm definitely not the love interest. Maybe I should be worried._

Don't get me wrong, I wanted to have lunch with Sans. I wanted a chance to—I don't know—get along with him. Maybe be friends. And _then_ maybe he'd stop dodging me every time I brought up the machine. Maybe. I wanted to believe Sans had changed his mind somewhere in the last week… that he wanted to give me a chance.

The other side of my mind screamed this had one-thousand-and-one ways to go _wrong_. So… no way he was serious, right? He just wanted to mess with me.

The other voice in my mind, quieter still, hoped he meant it.

I crossed my arms as I watched him for any indication it was a joke. "Uh, sure… but aren't you working?" I'd play it off if he didn't mean it.

"_Pfft_. It's time for my legally-required break."

"…it's not even noon."

He didn't bother to lock up the cart as he stepped toward me, hands shoved casually in his pockets. "Then it's brunch," he quipped as he passed by, a smirk tugging at his teeth the whole time.

I shook my head, hesitating._ He's serious?_

He glanced back at me and shrugged one shoulder. "Unless… maybe you're not hungry?"

I was famished. And I could definitely go for some water right now. I jogged to catch up with the skeleton. "No! I mean, yes! I am! I'm coming! Lunch sounds good."

Just like those first moments in the basement, I didn't know whether to feel giddy or terrified as I walked alongside Sans. The thing is… for all the tension that filled the air between us at the Manor, Sans was still, well… _my favorite character._ Which was a strange enough thought to have when you're walking alongside someone in the… _flesh_. As it was, I'm pretty sure I nearly chewed a hole through my lip by the time we made it down the block. I wondered if he'd take a short cut, but it quickly became clear we were walking to our destination.

[oOo]

Sans filled the first few minutes of our walk with bad puns—his specialty. I laughed along, partly because I found his puns legitimately funny and partly because I was nervous.

One thing was certain, however. As we walked, the storm cloud that had hung over my head most of the morning seemed to disperse and my expression brightened for the first time all day.

The two-way streets gave way to well-traveled four-lane roads as we got closer to downtown. We passed more traffic—not just cars, but other monsters on the sidewalk as they went about their Friday afternoon. I don't know what prompted Sans's next joke. Perhaps he'd spied a ticket on one of the cars parked along the curb. All I know is, next he was nudging me with an elbow, sockets curved in the impish expression I recognized as the one he wore right before he told a particularly bad joke. "Hey… I got pulled over once. The cop asked to see my papers."

I gave Sans the side-eye. _Oh yeah. Bad joke incoming!_

"…so I told him, 'Scissors! I win!' and drove off."

…

My laugh was definitely a pity laugh. But I _did_ laugh, and that seemed to be enough for Sans. "That was terrible. You don't even drive."

Sans gave me a look. "Don't I? You haven't been in a car with me yet."

"…because you don't own one."

"Touché."

I shook my head, still chuckling as we turned a corner. I couldn't believe how well this was going. _He must be up to something._ He hadn't made a gibe about my status as "the anomaly" yet. Or made any captious comments. _What gives?_ I considered asking, but I wanted to enjoy this. Why bait him when we were getting along? Besides… I felt like I was melting. I probably should've turned back when I had the chance, but I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Why were we walking when he could shortcut?

Too busy worrying about whether or not Sans had something up his sleeve, I didn't notice we'd reached an intersection. I didn't even realize Sans had stopped… until the roar of a motorcycle startled me from my thoughts. I looked up just in time to see a helmeted rider speeding around other motorists with utter disregard for safety.

I'd come to the edge of the curb. Too close. My foot slipped off and I stumbled, right into the road.

Right into his path.

My heart leapt into my throat as my limbs seemed to lock up. I had a fleeting impression of black leather and silver, of sun glaring off the black helmet. I didn't move. Couldn't.

He was coming fast, too fast, and didn't seem ready to slow down. If he'd been in his lane, it wouldn't matter…

Didn't he see me? I tried to take a breath–

A harsh yank on my arm pulled me off my feet and out of the path of the oncoming motorcycle with barely a moment to spare. A harsh breath escaped my lungs as I staggered into Sans before regaining my balance, eyes wide.

The rider roared through the red light, raising a hand in my direction as he hollered something I couldn't quite catch over the pounding in my ears. I mumbled and shook my head, panting, limbs quivering as I realized what just happened. Sans steadied me, but once he realized I was on my feet his hands dropped.

"Welp. That was a close one." My eyes cut to Sans as he spoke. He stared after the rider for a moment before looking down at me. His eye lights checked me over before his mouth quirked. "You almost got turned into a Lu-pancake. You should probably pay more attention."

Sans had just… saved me. I blinked, stunned speechless.

I _must_ have misread him. Why else would he bother pulling me out of the way? Sure, my heart was racing and my legs felt like Jell-O, but suddenly the rain cloud had dispersed entirely and I couldn't help but grin in the wake of my near-death-experience. _Sans saved me!_ And that meant he couldn't think I was all _that_ bad! At least, he thought I was worth keeping alive. Which meant there was a chance. We could still be friends!

A nervous laugh trembled from my lips. "I uh, y-yeah! Th-thanks!" I tried to swallow down my frayed nerves as I turned to the skeleton.

Sans winked a socket shut. "Don't mention it." He paused. "'Sides. I'm really not a fan of pancakes." The pedestrian light flashed white and we continued on our way. Once we reached the other side of the street, I realized he walked on the other side. He'd switched. Put himself between me and the traffic. Did he mean to? Or had it just happen after I'd fallen back into him? We had crossed to the other side of the road, after all.

"Dunno 'bout you," he drawled as we continued casually along, "but I'd rather have an omelet any day of the week." Beat. "Smothered in ketchup."

Somehow I think he _knew_ that'd get a reaction out of me. It definitely did. My nose scrunched as I cast him a look of disgust, but I couldn't help giggling anyway. "That's so gross!"

"Is not! Ketchup on eggs is the epitome of fine cooking!" Sans refuted, feigning offense.

"Nu-uh. No. No way is that _fine_ cooking! Doesn't count!" I said. "Honey and eggs, on the other hand…"

Now it was Sans's turn to scrunch his nose—nasal ridge?—in an expression that could _only_ happen on a magical skeleton's face.

I laughed at the disbelief and blatant disgust on his features. _Worth it._

"You're tellin' me ketchup on eggs is weird? Nah. Nope. I don't buy it," Sans said. "M'pretty sure that's one thing plenty o' other people consider pretty normal. But honey? On eggs. Now _that's_ weird."

I giggled and rolled my shoulders in an small shrug. An easy smile fell into place as we walked together. He fell silent, and after a couple minutes my heart finally settled down.


	11. Chapter 11: Obligatory Grillby's Scene

**A/N:** As a birthday present to myself I decided to post this chapter. I feel like it's still very much a draft and it may undergo yet more editing, but I really want to move on. xD So… here goes! An early update for ya'll.

I really struggled with this chapter. I hope the mood it right. Especially for what's to come.

* * *

_Totally called it._

…

Grillby's wasn't a large establishment by any stretch of the imagination—just a small brick building in the middle of town. I couldn't help the small smile that formed on my face as my eyes wandered over the name emblazoned in yellow over the door.

"You been here before?"

I glanced up to meet Sans's curious stare.

Sure, I knew _of_ Grillby's, but I'd assumed. What if it hadn't made it to the surface? "No," I admitted quietly. "And never in person, besides."

Sans's eye lights shivered briefly, but he offered no comment—just a haphazard shrug.

A bell jingled pleasantly over our heads as Sans held the door for me. I nodded an awkward thanks as I stepped over the threshold.

The aroma of greasy food—the sort of smell that permeated only the best local pubs—hit my nose immediately. My stomach clenched and my mouth watered. _Did I even remember to eat breakfast…?_ I'd been so fraught this morning… I could no longer deny how hungry I was.

The small bar thrived; patrons chattered softly in corners just dark enough to be private. Eye lit up all around as they landed on the skeleton.

Sans strode forward, grin broad, as a chorus of voices rose around us. He offered a humble dip of his head, but greeted the room like a low-key rockstar. He didn't need Papyrus's infectious energy or broad gestures to command the room. If anything, his understated movements and confident aura grabbed attention in a way his brother never could. This was his element, and he devoured the attention.

Sans seemed to have two modes when he interacted with others: either he stole the spotlight with his jovial grin and humor, or he slunk in the shadows—watching, gathering information, measured and precise. Today, spotlight-stealing Sans was in full swing. I could never hope to command a room like this; never wanted to, though I'd stood on a stage and performed. It was hard not to be captivated by Sans's whole act.

I finally managed to tear my eyes away. Grillby's felt familiar in the same way the brothers' living room did. Like a remembered, but… it felt _off. _Like coming home and knowing something was different, but unable to put your finger on it, you go about your day… until you slam your toe and realize all the furniture has been shifted two inches to the left.

At least the warm atmosphere diffused some of my uneasy spirit.

I kept close to the skeleton, overwhelmed by the crowded atmosphere. I preferred quiet parks over crowded bars any given day. It wasn't like I didn't know how to handle a crowd, but… I'd been on edge all day. I was in a new location with a guy who, for all intents and purposes, was technically a stranger.

There were so many monsters, so many new faces. I swallowed down my nerves. _It's a new experience. Try to enjoy it._

"Sansy!" A rabbit monster greeted from where she leaned against an old upright. Sans shot her finger guns, complete with clicking noise.

I recognized the rabbit monster from _Undertale. _A man with a particularly long face threw back a vibrant red liquid. He hiccuped fire a moment later. The rotund monster beside him shot his partner a glare as he leaned out of the flame's way. Another pair looked like they came right out of an old gangster film, complete with suits and fedoras. They sulked on one end of the bar, faces sour.

A dog monster barked the skeleton's name over and over, its tail thumping the back of their chair loudly. Sans offered the dog a lazy two-finger salute as he passed by. The dog seemed satisfied. And at least less intimidating than some of the other monsters present.

The dog leaned forward. I offered my hand and a small smile. The dog's tail thumped harder and their entire body shook. _I think dog monsters might be my favorite._ They sniffed my hand, snuffling adorably before I continued after Sans.

The happy greetings seemed to turn into unabashed stares as I trailed through, a shadow in Sans's wake.

Sans hopped onto a barstool and patted the one beside him.

I sidled up, doing my best to ignore the stares. _You'd think they'd never seen a human before._ Part of me wished the floor would swallow me up, but I determined I wouldn't let it bother me. I hopped onto the stool.

_PFFFfffffffbbbbt!_

For a moment I sat, shoulders hunched, face pinched. …_of course._ The noise tapered into a pathetic squeak as I cringed, shifting some of my weight forward, off the offending cushion.

A few nearby patrons stifled their chuckles.

_I should've known._ I rolled my eyes as I pulled the offending item out from under my rear and tossed it to Sans.

He caught it, face straight as could be as he met my eyes. "What's that look for? I didn't put that there. I'm tellin' ya," the cushion flopped limply in his hand as he shook it, "there are some real weirdos who come here. Don't worry, kid. I'll keep a socket on ya." He tapped his temple for effect, one socket closed in a lazy wink.

I gave him a playful scowl, arm crossed. "I'm sure you will." Given the number of times Sans had already pulled the prank on me before, I thought he would have become bored with it by now. Then again, he'd never had the opportunity to prank me in public.

Grillby crackled softly as he stepped up to the bar; any further admonishment I had for the skeleton died on my lips as I turned to the fire elemental. Warmth, like fire on a cold winter's night washed over me. Welcoming. Soothing. Bright. I met his gaze as he angled his head curiously, but the way his white-hot eyes curved behind his glasses suggested he smiled. A short intake of breath was all I could muster.

His gaze flickered between us. "Sans. The usual?"

His smoky voice barely rose above a whisper—didn't need to—it remained audible and distinct above the din of his bar. _Probably magic._

Sans sockets curved, pleased. "You know me so well."

"And for the lady?" Those burning eyes landed on me.

Somewhere between his smooth baritone and the perfect angle of his head, my brain had been struck embarrassingly mute but for one thought: _Oh-no-he's-hot. __I've seen too much fan art. _I didn't expect to turn into a blushing fan girl mess when put face-to-face with the fire elemental, of all people. Did I look flustered? I hope I didn't look flustered. I scraped my hair behind my ear, smile as natural as possible. _Pull yourself together, Lu!_

Sans's amused stare did not help.

I kept my eyes fixed on Grillby, determined to ignore Sans's teasing grin.

"I'd recommend the burgers," Sans piped up, resting his cheek in his hand. "Unless you're more the salad type?"

"N-no, a burger sounds _great_!" I squeaked, cutting Sans off a little too quickly. I tore my eyes from Grillby to give Sans a bemused look. _Who gets a salad in a burger joint…?_ I'd never been one for fulfilling the girly-girl stereotypes, and I wasn't about to start. That one could stay restricted to the movies. I hastily added a water to the order before I could second-guess myself. I swear I heard Grillby chuckle as he walked back to the kitchen with our orders.

We lapsed into silence.

My hands wrung together under the counter. Glasses and silverware clinked. Someone laughed loudly and slapped a table behind us… I flinched. The low murmur of conversation created a nervous jumble in my head. Too loud. Too much. It didn't help when it felt like every monster in the bar seemed to be whispering about the lone _human_. I was probably making it up… self conscious because I was the minority. My eyes wandered to the door.

Sure, I knew what Sans was like in _Undertale_ in a given set of circumstances, but when push came to shove, he was a stranger. All I had were assumptions… and I didn't know what to say. The questions I wanted to ask were off-limits in the middle of a crowded bar. How long before Sans found another way to snipe at me?

Sans broke the silence first. Distracted, I missed what he said. When I turned to him, he had ducked his head so he could peer up at me under her brow. His sockets were curved, but his deceptive smile twitched, almost concerned.

Maybe I needed to give him more credit. He did pull me out of the way of a crazy motorist, after all. I took a small breath and offered a hesitant smile.

He leaned forward. "You're actin' kinda jumpy."

I fought the urge to lean back. I winced. _Am I that obvious?_ "Oh, uh, well…" I shrugged one shoulder and stammered, "D-don't see a lot of humans, and, uh, it feels like everyone is staring…"

Sans snorted. "That's 'cause they are." He indicated the room with a sweep of his arm. I couldn't help but follow the gesture, and found he wasn't half-wrong. I swallowed and grimaced, turning fixedly back to the bar. I wanted nothing more than to bury my head in my hands, to sink into the floor and disappear.

I heard Sans grunt softly. "You're with me. Of course they're staring. They're jealous." Wink. Nudge.

_Not helping._

"Seriously, though," Sans cast the room one last glance, "_Chill._ Grillby's is _cool_." Sans looked at me for several seconds, skull painted blue and pink by the sign behind the counter. "Don't think anyone else is gonna try to run you over."

"Yeah, I know, I know. I just…" My fingers fiddled absently with the edge of the counter.

Sans's eyes shivered curiously when I hesitated. "Let me guess. You didn't go to bars much."

My eyes snapped to the skeleton. _Huh. He really is good at reading people, huh?_

"And you didn't drink. Amiright?"

"I preferred to think of myself as the DD." I chuckled at my own expense, shoulders rolling forward as I contemplated my reflection in the countertop. I took a small breath. "Mostly went for the greasy food and company." I couldn't remember the last time I'd spent time with a friend. Or anyone, really. I mentally shrugged the thought away and cast a quick glance at the room around me. "And then, there weren't any monsters so it, uh… wasn't quite this interesting."

Intrigued, Sans sat up straighter and rested his elbows on the counter. "No monsters, huh?" He took a moment to observe the bottles along the wall behind the bar, glancing up where a mirror reflected our faces. He caught my eyes in the reflection and one side of his mouth lifted higher. The calculating expression was back. "Here we are in a bar full o' monsters, one of which is made of literal fire." He chuckled and turned to me. "I've seen humans flip out over less. Certainly seen 'em do more than get a little jumpy. Heh. You didn't even bat an eye when you saw Grillby. Actually, you almost looked like you expected to come here."

I dropped my gaze, lips pursed. _Is that why he brought me here?_ _To make comments about humans and ask pointed questions?_ "Did you just bring me here to _grill_ me?" My eyes narrowed, but my smile stayed firmly in place.

Caught off-guard by my pun, Sans's smile staggered before it widened. "No. You looked like you were _roasting_ out there. Bit of a walk to town an' all. Hot summer day."

I snorted and took in his favored hoodie-and-shorts combo. He'd replaced the pink slippers with blue high tops. The laces were untied. He didn't seem the least bit bothered by the heat…

"Anyways. How'd you figure we'd come here and not, say, _Muffet's_ down on the corner?"

"Well." I considered a moment, fingers clutched under my chin as I pulled my attention back to Sans properly. I kept my voice low, wary of being overheard. "I guess _you'd_ say it's because I'm the anomaly… right?"

"_Tch_. True enough." His fingers drummed once on the counter.

I pressed my mouth to my hands as I thought, brow furrowed.

What was I supposed to tell him? _Oh, this is all from a video game so I recognize the faces?_ Just like I'd known his? Somehow telling him his life really had been a _game_ to me didn't seem like the best route to take. "Because you're you. Honestly…" I clasped my hands in my lap. "I'm surprised you didn't take me somewhere else just to mess with me."

If what I said bothered him, it didn't show. Instead, Sans laughed. "And miss out on the best burgs in town? No way."

I smiled uneasily. His laugh was pleasant, deep and infectious. I almost wanted to join him. Almost.

He was being so _nice._ Not that I'd ever thought Sans was a _bad_ guy, bu… this was the guy who, two weeks ago, glared me down and viciously accused me of poking holes in the universe. Hell, he looked like he wanted to go _Super Saiyan_ on me the first time we met. And then when I asked about the machine… _ugh._ The memory of that glare was still enough to make me shudder.

Now he was laughing and joking. He'd been doing that more with me over the last week. Could you blame me for wondering what he wanted? What changed?

The clink of glass on the counter had our heads turning.

"What? No ketchup?" Sans asked, feigning offense as he glared up at Grillby.

"I told you, Sans." The fire elemental looked the part of an exasperated parent as he stepped back from the counter. "Condiments are not for drinking. Not in my establishment. You want to indulge in that habit of yours then you'll have to bring your own." Grillby returned to the kitchen before Sans could offer a snarky retort.

I raised my brows. _Sans just got told!_

"What?" Sans's eyes cut to me, sockets narrowed.

"Oh," I tried to school my expression, but I couldn't help the smirk lifting one corner of my mouth and hid behind my clutched hands. "Guess I'm not the only one who thinks drinking condiments is weird."

Sans huffed a churlish snort. "He can't stop me. Besides," his eyes twinkled, "I'm always prepared…" Sans pulled aside his hoodie and winked as he surreptitiously withdrew a bottle from within. "He's just sore 'cause he lost a bet…" He popped the cap with a thumb and took a long swig. I'm sure he did it just to see how my face scrunched just at the thought of drinking the thick condiment.

We bantered back and forth for a few minutes. I made fun of his ketchup-drinking habit, and he regaled me with the tale of how he drank all Grillby's ketchup supply in a single night.

Our barbs continued—all in good fun—gentle and entertaining. By the time our food came I felt more relaxed. The other patrons fell to the back of my mind and I focused on Sans. He seemed at ease, and I dared to think he might even be enjoying himself in spite of present company. I almost dared to think we could be friends if this continued.

Which only compounded the confliction I felt.

My questions about the machine were still unanswered. But if we made progress this afternoon? That might change soon.

Sans loaded his plate with the remainder of his ketchup, his sockets bright—silently daring me to say something.

I rolled my eyes and smirked over my own plate before taking a bite out of my burger. Hunger got the better of me and most of the food disappeared faster than it should have.

Sans raised a brow. "Trying to compete with a black hole?"

I choked, surprised and embarrassed by the comment, and slowed down considerably.

"So. What did you do? Before, uh, changin' timelines and all?" He stated it so harmlessly. Casual.

My eyes cut to him. _There's the snipe._ I paused to consider him. I'd hoped he'd give me a chance. That he'd understand I was human. I almost thought this was him giving me one… almost. I smiled despite my reservations. "I was– am an artist. Studied design in college."

"Art, huh?" Sans scratched at his ribs absently, eyes locked on me as he waited for me to continue.

"Yeah. Wanted to illustrate children's books. Make kids smile. Something silly and idealistic like that. Full of vague hopes and dreams." I waved the idea away with a small movement of my hand. _Didn't work out_. I couldn't bring myself to continue and took another bite. It seemed to stick in my throat, but with some effort I swallowed it down.

Sans considered me, a strange smile twisting his teeth.

My own smile strained. I could sense another question coming, and before he could utter a sound I stammered out an over-enthusiastic, "This food is amazing!"

Sans took the hint and eased back into his seat. I heard a breath hiss through his nasal cavity. "Told ya. Best burgs in town."

The conversation lulled once more.

My hands rested in my lap, gently clasped—their default when I was uncomfortable.

The soft _scritch_ of Sans's fingers on wood drew my gaze up. The first time I saw those fingers… those first seconds in this world, when I felt so detached from what was going on around me, and in my panic I'd seen something more.

His phalanges were rounded on the ends. Not sharp. Barely pointed. They were sturdy, thicker than human bone. Smoother.

Sans watched, eyes half-lidded as he tapped a finger intently on the counter to get my attention.

A blush painted my cheeks as I realized I'd been staring. I chewed my lip before I offered a haphazard explanation, my voice little more than a murmur. "You know," I began, "the first time I saw you, I thought your fingers were claws." A small breath and a mirthless chuckle. "I was terrified of you." My mind wandered, far away in the surreal memory.

Sans's brow arched. His hand lifted from the counter and he held it out, palm-up, fingers outstretched in my direction. Mild disbelief colored his features, only to fade into a vague, oddly pleased expression.

I snapped to the present, a flush coloring my cheeks further as I realized what I'd just said. I'd just given him ammo, and I could see him loading his gun…

"You thought I had claws." He deadpanned, bit back a rough laugh—before he looked at his own hand, inspecting it front-and-back for any sign of the so-called claws.

I grimaced, fiddling with the droplets of water my glass left on the counter. "I know, I know, it's silly." _Why'd I even tell him that?_ When I finally recovered myself enough to look up, Sans had his hands held in front of him, a nail file scraping across his fingers.

…

_A nail file?_ My laugh was more of a startled hiccup. Did he carry that around all the time, waiting for the opportunity? _He doesn't even have fingernails!_

Didn't stop him from filing them casually in front of me. When he looked past his fingers to see my face his grin widened.

I finally crumbled, the laughter pressing at my chest finally burbling up as I held a hand to my mouth in one last desperate bid to stop it.

Everything about this situation was absurd.

A skeleton filing his nails in a bar.

A human from another world sitting beside him.

_This is mad. I'm still not sure I haven't totally lost it._

I straightened as I recovered myself, though my eyes lingered on his hands.

A fleeting thought pressed on my mind. Emboldened by how well lunch had gone, I gestured shyly toward Sans's hand before my courage could fail me. "Umm… could I… could I see?"

Sans, eyes nearly closed in the midst of his filing, paused. His gaze drifted lazily to my face to regard my open, earnest expression. I could see how his eye lights brightened and focused, sharpened. He straightened, pocketing the file as he sobered.

I almost regretted voicing the desire and my smile wavered.

"Eh," Sans shrugged. "Knock yourself out." He held his hand out to me, palm up.

I blinked several times, brows knit together.

I didn't _actually_ expect him to agree. I thought he'd make some smart comment and turn the request down. I didn't initiate physical contact often, especially with people I wasn't completely comfortable with. I could feel a coil of anxiety tightening my chest. Still, my curiosity outweighed my reservations, and I wouldn't back out now, even if part of me quailed under his watchful eyes.

He took joy in my bewildered expression, and when I waited a little too long, he chuckled. "Waiting for the offer to expire?"

I flinched, an awkward smile flashing across my face before I shook my head. My hands lifted in an uncertain, stuttering movement as my eyes flicked to Sans's face one last time. I reached toward his proffered hand.

My fingers ghosted over the bone, feather-light. I couldn't believe he was letting me touch him, letting me look closer, letting me–

"BOO!" Sans's fingers hooked—mimicking claws—as he lunged forward for effect.

The coil of anxiety frayed and snapped as my heart leapt into my throat. I jerked back, hands flying to my chest on reflex. The barstool wobbled dangerously, and I only _just_ managed to grab the counter to keep myself from toppling over—stool and all. Its legs slammed back down on the wooden floor in tandem with the sharp _clack_ of Sans's hand slapping the countertop as he guffawed.

Plates rattled.

Silverware clinked.

Multiple heads turned. Someone laughed.

_Was that a growl?_

And I felt my face grow hot for an entirely different reason. I sent him the dirtiest look I could muster as I straightened. _Guess I should've known he'd turn it into a joke._

His laughter continued, tapering into small hiccups when he saw my face. He looked smug, thoroughly pleased with himself.

I lowered my hands back to my lap. I'm not sure I smiled so much as grimaced. _It'd been a stupid request anyway._ I glanced away from the skeleton, chest tight with… disappointment?

Sans sobered, or at least attempted to stifle his laughter with a hand. "Heheh. I couldn't resist. You were just… _so intense. _Sorry." He didn't sound at all sorry.

I rubbed the back of my neck and rested my elbow on the counter. "Yeah, yeah, make fun of me, you troll," I smiled and rolled my eyes, joking, pretending for all the world some part of me didn't hurt.

Sans chuckled as he mirrored my pose, elbow on the counter. "Do I look like a troll to you?"

"You're at least half troll. Don't deny it."

Sans huffed a laugh, eye lights rolling in his sockets. "I mean, really. How could I resist?" He leaned a little closer. "The Big Bad Anomaly. Afraid of li'l ol' Sans?"

He sank his claws in. I'd given him _ammunition_. He'd loaded the gun. Taken aim.

I shrank, fingers curling in my lap. In the wake of my still-racing heart and stinging disappointment, I didn't think. "…the 'Big Bad Anomaly' is human, too."

I almost missed it. If I hadn't been looking, I might never have seen how his sockets twitched, dimmed. Hardened. The bright smile came back the moment Grillby came to pick up our plates. Then he was right back to me, smile lazy and sockets not so much lidded as they were narrowed. His eye lights snuffed out.

He cocked the gun. He considered me. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, rumbling, so only I could hear. "Is that supposed to help your case?"

Gun fired.

So… if I wasn't the _anomaly_, then I was _human_. I _couldn't_ win.

Did I imagine the contempt in his voice?

That rain cloud I thought I'd managed to lose earlier? Yeah. It was back en force and it was _pouring_.

Still, Sans waited. Baiting me. Yeah, that had to be it. He wanted to see what I'd _do_. And why not?

I finally managed a shuddering breath, willing the tightness in my chest to go away. He'd literally saved my life earlier today. So. No. Not going to let it get to me. _I'm not. I refuse._ I forced my eyes to remain on his, even though I felt cold creep up my spine when I stared into the empty sockets.

"Shouldn't it?" I countered, voice soft. Calmer than I felt. "I feel. I think. I care. I…" _I hurt._

Sans didn't budge. "Heh. Do I need to remind you? What humans did to monsters. Trapped us Underground for centuries. And for what?"

It felt like a slap in the face.

"Petty fears and cruel intentions."

I knew. I _knew_ I shouldn't take it personally. I told myself he didn't mean _me_, he was just talking about humans in general. It was a _generally_ racist remark. But I couldn't help it. His words _stung_. Disappointment rose like bile in my throat as what he said sank in. I don't think I could speak even if I _could_ think of anything to say. I bit my cheek. Hard. He was just trying to get at me. I couldn't afford to rise to the bait. I steeled myself, forcing calm and patience into the furthest reaches of my being.

"Not every human," I argued softly. "I'm not." I tried to remain calm and resolute. Kind.

"Maybe." Bone scraped across the counter as Sans shifted on his stool. "Maybe not." His eye lights returned to watch me from the corner of his socket. Waiting.

_Why does he have to do that?_

I swallowed and took a deep breath. My lips pursed, because I knew they'd end up wobbling if I let them relax now. I didn't look at Sans. Couldn't. I locked my ankles together and forced my smile to stay on. _I almost think we can be friends, and then… _I willed the hurt down deep where it could never be seen or touched.

"Ah, never mind…" I shook my head. "Look, you don't have to like humans. Sometimes I don't either." _I can't let this stop me._ "I'd like to think, despite my apparent flaws, maybe we could still be friends." A self-deriding chuckle.

Sans stayed still for a few more seconds. Finally, he cleared his throat and hopped off his stool. "Heh. Maybe," he inclined his head toward me, "but that's a debate for another time."

…_at least he didn't shoot it down entirely._

"Welp. This's been a real slice. But, eh, this break has gone into overtime." He spared me one last, fleeting glance. "See ya."

…and walked out.

…

The bell over the door jingled.

…

My eyes widened. I realized something vital. "Sans!"

I thought I heard Grillby say something, but I ran out the door before I could hear it. "Sans!"

He'd already vanished, no where to be seen.

I raised my hands to my forehead to massage my temples. _I don't know how to get back the Manor._


	12. Chapter 12: Interference

**A/N: **A couple quick shout-outs to some people who have really made my day! Like, seriously you guys. I mean it. I love every review, every comment. Every thought. **Yours the Author** and **SaintHeartwing**, thanks for sparking my imagination and challenging discussion.

The original chapter was over 10k words when all was said and done. So it's split into multiple parts for my sake. And maybe yours. This chapter is a bridge, but with any luck, you'll get faster updates next month. I still very much consider this chapter a first draft. It may change if needed. But if that happens, you'll be warned, of course. :) **On a side note… would anyone be interested in being a beta?** I've never had one, or used the system here, but I feel like having a sounding board or just someone who can catch holes or places that need questioned would help me a lot. I only update about once a month due to my schedule, so I won't be forcing you to read a ton every month. Probably. You'll just get to see the mess I make before I post a chapter. xD

I wanted to include a song and lyrics mid-chapter, but I couldn't get it to work how I wanted. It's one of those things that seems like a good idea in my head (and as a fan of musicals I like how a song can sometimes relay more emotion than anything else), but on paper (haha) it can be too cheesy or wordy. So instead I opted for partial lyrics to appear at the beginning of the chapter. The song is **Exile Vilify by The National.** Look it up if you like. I imagine it may very well be the song Lu plays later in the chapter. Or, you can insert a favorite song of your own. ;) I like to let people use their imaginations. -shrug-

**Tell me, what song do you imagine she might play? Let me know in the comments. I'm curious and love discussion.**

The next chapter is mostly written… I'm tweaking dialogue. (Oh, and dare I say we're overdue for a Sans POV?)

In the mean time—everyone take care in the midst of these strange, trying times. Be safe everyone. Be well. Don't be afraid—you're not alone!

Now then. Back to your regularly scheduled story time…

* * *

_Exile  
__It takes your mind  
Again  
__o  
__You've got sucker's luck  
Have you given up?  
Does it feel like a trial?  
Does it trouble your mind the way  
You trouble mine?  
o  
__Does it feel like a trial?  
Now you're thinking too fast  
You're like marbles on glass  
o  
Vilify, don't even try  
Vilify, don't even try_

_—Exile Vilify, The National_

[oOo]

Now, in case you wondered what happened after Sans left—and I'm sure you did—the cascade of tumultuous events continued. A sequence of small disasters, culminating in the metaphorical rain cloud bursting into reality.

It rained. It rained _buckets_.

And I'm sure you're wondering how I ended up walking in it, soaked from head to toe. Yeah… well. I had no one to blame for that bit except myself. _Probably should've taken that guy up on the ride._

…

See, I'd stayed at Grillby's for several minutes. Tried to explain I couldn't pay. …Grillby didn't look surprised. I promised to make it up to him—I'd noticed the old piano in the corner, but… maybe another day. It seemed for every kind face I saw, I could just as soon find a scowl pointed in my direction. I just wanted to leave.

The monster in question approached me as I prepared to step back out into the heat. He reminded me of James Dean—all ripped jeans and white tee shirts. Pale whiskers twitched, framing his feline face as he noted he'd seen me enter the bar with Sans. "That creep ditched you, huh?" And that Sans had left without me. Kind though he seemed, I took one look at his leather jacket and sharp green eyes and all I could think of was the flash of a black helmet, the gleam of metal, and a roaring motorcycle. Besides, I didn't like how observant he was. It left me with an illogical, fleeting fear for my safety; I wished Sans was still with me. At least he was a familiar face in this strange world. I declined Liam's—that was his name—offer for a ride as politely as I could and made up some excuse on how I'd walk and probably catch Sans up.

("And… he's not a creep. Just… a busy guy.")

("Suit yourself, babe.")

…

I didn't catch Sans up, of course.

It'd grown hotter and the humidity had sky-rocketed even since we'd been at Grillby's. I could barely keep the sweat out of my eyes; I had to wipe it away with the back of my arm every few seconds. Then the rain began. Water replaced sweat.

Thus, I found myself in my present predicament.

…

_At least I've got a hoodie. What luck and foresight. Heh. It probably can't get worse, right?_ A self-deprecating smile spread on my lips as I pulled my arms tighter around me, fingers shoved under my arms to keep them dry. _Probably shouldn't tempt fate with thoughts like that._ I shivered. _And of course, now instead of being too hot, I'm freezing. Just my luck._ I rolled my eyes and huffed. Water sprayed from my lips.

I reached the edge of a vaguely familiar neighborhood… maybe. The houses all looked the same. And no, I didn't remember the way back to the Manor. Just because I had a good sense of direction didn't mean I could magically navigate my way back, _thank you very much!_ I'd been confident about which way to take at first, but now… I had no idea where exactly I was, and no way to contact either of the skeleton brothers. Even if I did bother someone to borrow their phone, I didn't know their numbers.

By the time Papyrus found me—nearly an hour later—my fingers had gone numb. Chin tucked against my chest, I didn't notice him until his car pulled up beside me. Even then, it took him tapping the horn to get my attention. My head jerked up as the window rolled down to reveal wide, concern-filled sockets. "HUMAN LUMENA! What are you doing out here?!"

I wanted to cry in relief, but I settled for a watery smile.

The skeleton stared up at me with a confounded expression.

My usual disarming smile was not enough. I looked pathetic. His face softened and he chastised me, but his own brand of Papyrus humor shone through. "I know it's a free shower, but isn't this just a bit much?" His brow raised. My smile stumbled.

"Don't just stand there! GET IN! All this rain isn't good for human health! We will not have you getting sick!" His worry outshone his scowl.

_Admonished like a child. _I rolled my eyes. I didn't know whether to laugh or cringe as I climbed into the sports car. "It's good to see you too, Papyrus." Water puddled in the leather seat and my feet sloshed uncomfortably in my tennis shoes. I hoped I wouldn't have to add_ ruined upholstery_ to my list of small disasters. If Papyrus noticed the mess, he didn't say anything as he gave me a steady once-over.

"It wasn't raining when I left." I winced. Did my voice just wobble? I cleared my throat. _Congestion_. From the _rain_. Yeah. _Ahem._

Unimpressed, Papyrus sighed and shook his head as he turned the heat on full blast. I dared to remove my fingers from my armpits and held them closer to the warmth. Didn't do much for the numbness… my eyes felt hot instead. I pressed my palms to my face and heaved a sigh—it alleviated the pressure.

…

Papyrus didn't do extended silence. Especially in the car. He prodded, determined to peg what caused my failing smile.

Sans's words tumbled around in my head like shoes in a dryer. Loud, distracting, repetitive. I was overanalyzing. _Oversensitive_. Right? I mean, he'd saved my life today too, so… it didn't seem like what he said added up. I should let it go. _Right_…? That's usually what I did. Why did it bother me so much _this_ time? I already had a niggling idea why, but squaring up to it… nah. I didn't want to. _Shouldn't have let my guard down._

I wished I could tell Papyrus what was really going on. I wished I could call Mom. I wished I could talk it out and sort my thoughts.

And I wished he'd quit glancing at me with wide, puppy-dog sockets. Seriously, they were getting very difficult to ignore. The drive back to the Manor took longer than I remembered.

Papyrus sulked for a few minutes, displeased with my evasiveness. "SOMETHING is troubling you, Human Lumena! The Great Papyrus is a most excellent listener! The BEST! Even though I don't have ears. I promise it has no bearing on my listening ability!" I swear his teeth did that cheesy teen movie sparkle. "There must be some way I can help!"

The sincerity of his words struck me and I looked at him with no small amount of gratitude. I needed a friend, and I was fresh out of options. I only had two people in this world… and one of them was the source of my present frustration. "Have you ever had one of those days where everything just… seems to go wrong? Somehow, no matter what you do to make it better, no matter how positive you try to be, something else just… happens?"

Papyrus cast a furtive glance in my direction.

The wiper blades punctuated the silence.

"It's been one of those days. And I'm… I'm trying really hard not to let it get me down." I sighed, shoulders slumped forward as I resisted the urge to rest my chin on the dashboard. I let my head rest in my hands instead. My palms pressed against my eyes again as I took a deep breath in, fighting the pressure I could feel building behind my eyelids once more. My shoulders rose and fell. The air hissed its way out. _I need to stay positive._

"The Great Papyrus NEVER has BAD days!"

I resisted the urge to glower at him and the ridiculous notion as I lifted my head from my hands. I stared ahead; if I looked at him I'd end up saying something snappy, and I didn't want that… thankfully, he continued before I could consider saying anything too snarky.

"The Great Papyrus CHOOSES to have GOOD ones, by making the BEST out of the bad ones!"

My head sank back into my hands. Maybe Papyrus wasn't the best person to talk to. Cold tendrils of isolation squeezed around my heart and threatened to overtake me. _I don't really need to talk. It's fine… I'm just… being a Negative Nancy. Who needs to listen to that?_

"But sometimes," Papyrus's voice shattered my thoughts, "it takes a friend to make a bad day good. That's what friends are FOR! To HELP you have good days when you can't make them by yourself. Do you want to talk about it? About why your day was bad?"

Warmth flooded my heart, chased away the icy tendrils, bolstered me. I looked to the skeleton in the driver's seat beside me. _Oh, Papyrus._ I'd underestimated him. I couldn't help the small sniff. I rubbed at my face, palmed away the _rain_ in my eyes. Papyrus was many things. Silly, maybe a _bit_ of a daydreamer, and perhaps not as (unnaturally) skilled at reading people as Sans, but he was sensitive… and far from stupid.

I sighed, eyes still shimmering. "Well, you know how I was up before you today…?"

"A most unusual occurrence!"

"Yeah, well…" I told him how little I'd slept. I'd been in a bad mood—he didn't need to know more than that—and how I thought getting out of the house might help. After walking the town, getting to know it… I felt better. Then I'd run into Sans.

"So, we ended up at Grillby's. And I thought we were having a nice time and the day was getting better and– and then…" I faltered. Would it be too much to talk about the other brother? It didn't feel right. "It's just something Sans said. I keep thinking about it…" At the time, mind blank, stunned, I'd given him the blatantly "right," moral response. In retrospect, I wondered if it was the correct one.

We pulled up to the Manor. Even after Papyrus put the car in park, neither of us moved to get out. Rain pounded the roof over our heads, buffering my thoughts as I cast a furtive glance in the skeleton's direction. _How does it always end up raining when we're together? Maybe I should invest in an umbrella. Ha._

I swallowed hard and looked down to my lap, where my hands clutched into loose fists. "Maybe I should just… _talk_ to him about it, but I– he– he left before I could say anything else. Or even… think it through." _And now I've thought about it most of the afternoon._

Papyrus rolled his eyes and grumbled. "Sounds like my brother all right."

I mean, how did I explain what happened leading up to Sans's comment? The one tumble-drying in my head. I supposed I didn't have to explain the complicated undercurrent of my… otherworldliness. _Heh. That makes it sound magical. All very_ Kingdom Hearts. _Only I'm not Sora and I've got no magic keys. Or blades. Or key blades. And I sure don't have the power of friendship. _Besides. Sans didn't want his brother to know I came from another world. I respected the older brother's wishes thus far; the delicate dance with my words around Papyrus had become routine. Didn't mean I liked it.

I took a stuttering breath as I tried to find the right words, even looked out the window as if they might manifest there if I stared hard enough. The old house's stone façade looked dark, almost black in the rain. I couldn't tell him why I thought Sans would make a comment like the one he had. Instead, I breathed, "Sans doesn't like humans much, does he? Or is it just… me he doesn't like?" My voice shrank, smaller and higher, as my sentence ended. It seemed obvious to me. _He doesn't. It's _me. I couldn't hide the wrinkle between my brow as I looked up at Papyrus.

Papyrus placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and sighed, voice filled with the resignation of a man who'd done this a million times before. The voice of a man who knew he was going to have to have a word with someone later. Still, he smiled. "What did that bonehead say to you?"

If the moment weren't so serious, I might have laughed at his name-calling. "It was just a comment about… humans." My face scrunched as I scratched at the back of my head.

Silence stretched as I pulled my arms closer. "He tried to tell me humanity's fears, their reasons for trapping monsters underground, were petty. I guess… maybe I took it personally. It felt like he meant to dig at me, and instead he…" _What? Used all of humanity as a scapegoat instead? _I tried to smile, but I doubt it looked convincing with my arms crossed and chin tucked pensively. I almost wished Sans had directed the comment at _me_. I would have been less confused. Instead, he made it sound like he hated all of humanity… and maybe he did. I… _didn't know_. The idea that reared its ugly head was enough to make my stomach pitch. What I knew about Sans came from a _video game._ I'd only ever seen his actions in relation to a _child_. Not an adult human.

The idea I didn't know Sans very well at all left my stomach churning. If I'd been in my world and met someone, I would've seen how silly it was to assume I knew them. I'd assumed I knew _enough_ about Sans… and now I felt silly. It was unrealistic. Another unknown.

I swallowed down the lump in my throat and forced my voice to work again."It doesn't seem right. But _I'm_ human, so maybe…" I shrugged, waving away my own words like smoke with a sad smile. "I mean, I didn't know those ancient humans. Maybe they _did_ do it for petty reasons. How would I know? I probably… misunderstood. So, _personally,_ I guess I'm… disappointed." I sighed. That was only a piece of the problem. "And. I really thought Sans and I were starting to get along. I thought we were having fun. Just… talking, and joking and. And I've been kinda hoping we might be able to be friends while I'm here, but now I'm thinking I'm a–" I swallowed. _Human? Anomaly?_ "…I'm not sure we can. Especially since he…" I shook my head slowly, words lost. _He t__hinks I'm… what? Evil? I don't even know. _"Guess it doesn't matter. It's not like… it's not like I'll be staying here forever, anyway." I felt oddly sad as the words left my mouth. "Is it even worth trying to befriend him if… if it doesn't matter in the end? We'll go our separate ways when this all blows over and–"

"Of course it is! Don't give up!" Papyrus answered automatically and gave my shoulder an encouraging squeeze. And another. And on the third I gave him an odd look. His eyes were trained on my shoulder, where his bony fingers came away. Soaked. "Wowie!" He breathed as he squinted at me. "You really ARE soaked to the bone."

…and down a rabbit trail we went. My eyes widened, all seriousness forgotten for the moment. I didn't mind. "Papyrus. Did you… did you just make a pun?" _On purpose?_

Papyrus's eyes narrowed, but the corners of his mouth twitched conspiratorially as he held a finger to his teeth. "_Don't tell Sans!_"

I laughed. For real this time. My shoulders shook, and I felt just a little of the tension I'd been feeling ease. "Okay, okay," I said between breaths, "I won't." We shared a secret in that moment, something, though insignificant, we could bond over. And somehow it was exactly what I needed.

"So… that's why you ended up walking in the rain alone? I thought it was just a sad human thing!"

I bit back another laugh. "Well. We walked there, so, I figured I'd walk back. I mean, I don't really mind? I used to walk a lot back home and the exercise kind of clears my mind." I raised my palms in a shrug. "Maybe it'll make me stronger!" I rolled my eyes, half-joking.

"Well! If you were meaning to work on your endurance, perhaps you should bring a friend along next time! A friend who LIKES exercise, I mean. Sans is SO LAZY!" His hands flew to his cheekbones. "GASP!"

_Did he just say–?_

"I KNOW! WE should train together sometime! We could SPAR! Have you ever sparred with a monster? It would be great fun! And excellent practice!"

_Practice for what!?_

Papyrus shook my shoulders enthusiastically; my head bobbled as my own enthusiasm puttered out. I waved my hands in front of me, faster this time, eyes wide. "Uh, I don't really do anything more than walk, you know? Sorry. I don't think sparring is really my thing? I mean, I've never done it before, but–"

"All the more reason for you to TRY! And! Perhaps my friend Undyne could come too! She is a most excellent sparring partner as well! She taught me everything I know! AND she is captain of the Royal Guard! If anyone can make you stronger, she can!"

Another pause in which I considered whether or not it would actually be a good idea to spar with Undyne.

_Did I say I _wanted_ to get stronger…?_

The look on his face suggested the gears in his head were still turning as he turned off the car. Before either of us got out, he turned back to me one last time. He spoke with an exaggerated eye roll and a sharp, indignant huff. "I don't know WHY being friends with my brother is so high on your list of priorities when you ALREADY have the friendship of the GREAT PAPYRUS–" he gestured dramatically to himself "–BUT! If it really bothers you so much…" His voice lowered as he leaned in close to whisper. Well, as much as he ever whispered, anyway. "I'M sure you can make friends with that lazybones." He let his words sink in before he continued. "Sometimes Sans says things just to hear himself talk! Or to argue! Ha! As if he could ever out-talk or out-argue the Great Papyrus!" He lifted a finger in the air and raised his chin haughtily. I wasn't sure that was something to be proud of.

Papyrus looked at my skeptical expression. "You'll SEE! Sans knows humans can be good. He loves Frisk, after all! He just has a harder time believing in humans than I do. Besides. You put up with his shenanigans ALMOST as well as I do. He's bound to like you eventually."

Papyrus's expression grew a little more serious, even though his sockets still had that ridiculous Papyrus Sparkle™ (I was really beginning to fall in love with it.). "I think Sans forgets everyone can be a good person if they just try. With someone as nice as you, he can't keep dodging forever! Don't give up, Lumena."

My face tinged pink at his no-nonsense declaration. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe he was right. Encouraged, I found myself nodding along. I couldn't give up just yet. I needed to reign in my feelings. I couldn't afford to be angry and hurt. _Especially when Sans is my only way home_.

"Papyrus?"

"Hmm?" The skeleton paused in the middle of reaching toward the back seat—toward a bag I'd failed to notice earlier.

"I… this helped. A lot. Thank you." _Sometimes just having someone to listen to you ramble awkwardly is the best medicine._

His cheeks flushed and for a moment he stared and his jaw flapped, flustered. "Well, of course! You see!" He tried not to _look_ flustered (and failed), "The Great Papyrus is… here to help! And I barely even did anything and STILL helped! A testament to my greatness!"

I couldn't help it. I laughed wholeheartedly, and my next words rung with mirth. "You did."

Papyrus snagged the bag from the back seat—apparently he'd been running an errand on his way home, which was why he'd even been on that side of town to begin with (lucky for me). …and apparently whatever "shortcut" I was taking would've taken a lot longer than if I'd just taken the correct route to the Manor. I rolled my eyes. I'd figured out I was lost after the first forty-five minutes… but Papyrus didn't need to know.

We dashed for the front door.

…

"Sans, I got your ketchup!" Papyrus started the moment he came through the door behind me.

Sans was already in the foyer, hands stuffed in his pockets. "Took you long enough to–" His voice tapered when his eyes fell first on his brother, then met my gaze. "…get here."

I stopped so abruptly Papyrus had to sidestep to avoid running into my back. I heard his boots skid on the wet floor as he came to stand beside me. I could only imagine the face that went with the choked sound he made.

My smile didn't so much _falter_ as _die_. Déjà vu crashed down, hard and unexpected, a physical punch to the chest. _Rain. Papyrus right behind me. Sans lurking at the door…_ my mouth went dry. My fingers curled against my thighs. Tension pinched at the back of my neck.

_"Next time you decide to go somewhere with–"_

_"–let me know–"_

_"–petty–"_

_"–cruel–"_

Time slowed and tunneled around me as a small, flickering fear ignited in the back of my mind. _I don't _really_ know Sans. _Would he be angry? _I think he's a man who would make good on his word. But what do I _really_ know about him?_

I couldn't face him. Not yet. I wasn't ready. Everything I wanted—_needed_—to say slammed to a stop in my mind, staggered. I hadn't been sure I could parse all my thoughts without emotional interference. Now I knew I couldn't. _Small disasters._

"Hey." I tried to pretend nothing was wrong, but my sales associate smile didn't work the way it should. What I wouldn't have given for a pathetic little pun. _Anything_. But nothing came to mind. And Sans fidgeted, expression conflicted. He was usually so quick on the draw, why didn't he…? I couldn't hold his unwavering stare when his smile tightened. His fingers clacked together. An odd sound. Like marbles on glass.

…

I tried to rub the tightness in my chest away as another brutal shiver rocked my shoulders. _It's fine. Just, buck up and face him. You _have_ to pretend. It's better if you are _unaffected_–_ my eyes grew hot. _No. No, I am _not_ going to cry. It's just _rain_. They're just _words_. They can't _hurt_ you. They can't. You're _better_ than this. They can't! …they shouldn't. It doesn't matter what they were. They shouldn't…_

…

They _did_. The frustrating admission shattered the frayed thread of emotional clarity I'd been holding onto. I mumbled something about needing dry clothes and excused myself before I darted up the stairs…

Papyrus said something. Sans too.

I didn't listen, and I didn't stop my flight until I'd sequestered myself behind a closed door.

[oOo]

I swallowed them down. What good were tears to me? This issue deserved _none_ of them. When I finally managed to get warm and dry, I quelled the worst of my mild panic. Like a ghost, slipped down the hall with the intention of finishing it off for good. I needed to think, to ease the tension and stress.

…the piano room. I didn't know what else to call it. The Grand Hall, perhaps? The ballroom? It was too small to be a ballroom a real ballroom… but it deserved a name.

I closed the doors behind me for some semblance of privacy before I slinked toward the instrument. I stretched my fingers and sat down; the bench creaked, welcoming, like an old friend. "Though we haven't known one another long," I murmured, only to chuckle at myself. _I'm talking to a piano. …but they are special instruments._ My fingers met the ivory.

The chords gradually became a melody I recognized. A song I knew. Lyrics came to mind, familiar and distantly fitting. The lilt of the notes came easily, and then soft, so soft, I sang so no one else could hear.

Eventually my fingers stilled. I took a deep breath. Held it in. Let it out slow, through my nose. _Better._

I stepped back out into the hall. I could hear the TV downstairs, the brothers' voices as they conversed… and for a moment I hesitated. It was past dinner time already. Honestly, even if I hadn't still been a little full from lunch, I didn't have much of an appetite. _Tomorrow. I can deal with it tomorrow._

I returned to my room. I ended up huddled in the middle of the bed, blankets twisted around me so only my face stuck out, like some sort of Eskimo.

I was left again with nothing but my own _silly _fears and Sans's words. My emotions would simmer down—already were—and I'd have a little more sleep behind me. Hopefully. I flopped onto my side and waited for sleep to come.

_If I squeeze my eyes shut… I can almost pretend I'm home._


	13. Chapter 13: Cognitive Dissonance

**A/N:** A _huge_ thank you and shout-out to **Yours The Author**, who has graciously agreed to Beta _Consequences _for me in the midst of their busy schedule. Thank you for helping me make my story the best it can be and your encouraging words (and grammatical catches). And to those following this story, and those who review, and those who don't… thank you, as well. Stay well. Life feels a little weird right now, but we're all in this together. Also. I think I may be writing a novel, and I'm pretty sure this story will surpass 100k words before it's done. _Hooboy, what have I gotten myself into?_

I feel like this chapter came out a little more technical than usual; less flowery and metaphor-y than my usual style, but I felt it served this one. Plus, it would've been mind-numbingly long otherwise.

A thing to bear in mind here, as I suspect some of you may wonder: No. Sans does not know about Flowey in detail or his lack of a soul; in fact, most of the monsters don't remember him at all after the end of the Pacifist run. At least, that's my interpretation for this fic. As much as I like the sweet stories where Asriel / Flowey gets a happy ending, this is not one of those stories. Anywho. Notes aside:

What _has_ Sans been up to? You know, other than making mistakes.

* * *

Sans watched from his place across the street as Lumena ran out of Grillby's, his name on her tongue. He made sure to remain unseen, tucking himself out of sight when her gaze swept in his general direction. She stood quietly, at a loss, hands on her hips. An arm swept across her forehead—humans were so fragile when it came to temperature—before she straightened. Her face morphed, resolute.

Sans let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding when she stalked back into Grillby's. He couldn't help noticing… she looked disappointed. Sans felt a vague stirring in his Soul, tried to ignore the the simple implications of her expression. She'd been let down.

He'd come to a conclusion in the midst of her time at the Manor. She was… actually a pleasant person. Decent enough, anyway. He'd even gotten used to the feeling she radiated…

He trailed her for a while, kept his socket on her, just like he said he would. She ambled along. At first, he thought she'd be fine. When he realized she paused at each intersection uncertainly, and then she turned the _wrong_ way, the feeling in his Soul hardened in his chest and dropped like a stone. She didn't know the way back. He reconsidered what he'd done, but too late. He couldn't face her now.

What had he done?

He felt the shift in the air, sensed the coming rain, dialed and lifted his phone to his skull.

"Yo, Paps. It's your favorite brother. Look, uh, I need another bottle of 'chup. The good stuff. From the store by Grillby's. Pretty sure he gets his supply from there. He, uh, wasn't in a sharing mood today. Just need one." A pause as he listened, then, "What? Yeah, of course it's gone, but– no, just one is fine. Thanks. You're the coolest. Uh-huh. See ya."

…

He snapped the phone closed as the clouds darkened. He had a bad feeling about all this. Like… he'd made a mistake. And Sans did not like making mistakes.

[oOo]

_One week ago…_  
Sans pulled away from TADaS's tangled interior. He got closer everyday, but TADaS wasn't ready yet. The machine… it just didn't _want_ to work. He'd run diagnostics the night before and kept coming up with the same magic flow error. He'd missed something, somewhere. Probably some tubing still loose… or a valve. And he'd probably not get any further today with his mind so preoccupied.

[oOo]

_The first few days were the worst. He didn't sleep much; his skull buzzed with worrying possibilities. No matter how much he told himself he just needed to wait, he just needed to be patient, Sans couldn't stop the errant thoughts._

_Who was she? Why couldn't he read her Soul? What if she didn't have one at all? Would she steal away his future while he slept?_

_…or was she really as guileless as she seemed?_

_He had no choice but to wait. No choice but to keep a close eye on her. And no choice but to involve Alphys._

[oOo]

He'd always been the numbers guy. The math guy. The physics guy. He could figure out the equations, but mechanical bits? Machinery? Repairs? That had always been Alphys's department. She was already suspicious enough after his call last week. Sans rubbed his sockets, knocking his glasses halfway up his nasal ridge in the process. He finally plucked the readers from his face altogether to leave them on the desk.

Alphys had access to the research. Who else knew about DT and Souls like she did? She was bound to put two-and-two together and figure out what happened. She'd figure out how much he'd been tinkering with the machine again. Didn't mean he'd just up and tell her. Still, if anyone had a chance of helping him figure out exactly what happened with the machine—with the Anomaly—then it was Alphys. The books could only get him so far on repairs. And they couldn't help him at all in determining the nature of the Anomaly's Soul.

[oOo]

_If a Soul is the culmination of a person's being and the Anomaly didn't have one, how could she exist? Was there something wrong with it? Something so wrong he couldn't even see it? What bound her to do anything but her word? What rules did she live by? What did it mean if she didn't have a Soul?_

[oOo]

Lumena kept her word.

Sans couldn't fight the frown tugging at his teeth as he stalked up the stairs. He walked his fingers over his skull, the reoccurring _tap-tap-tap_ a steady rhythm to smooth his racing thoughts. He just needed a short break to ease his nerves before returning to the task at hand. He sauntered into the kitchen and beelined for his ketchup, took a swig. They'd struck a deal, he and the Anomaly. She'd clean. Do his usual household chores for a while. He'd always hated doing laundry…

He heard her busying herself most of the morning; the bump and clang as she'd sought out cleaning supplies and padded through the house on her mission. She didn't ask for help.

_Must have one hell of an independent streak._

Then again, he probably would've made her look anyway just to challenge her. Couldn't have a bored Anomaly running around.

Sans paused with ketchup in-hand, gaze unfocused as he stood next to the fridge. He didn't care for this constant work. He'd much rather spend his day lazing around the house, or drinking at Grillby's, or sleeping. But the malaise that hooked its claws into him would keep him staring at the ceiling even if he did try to sleep. The new _what-ifs_ filling his mind would never let him rest. Even his favorite condiment didn't seem to take the edge off this time…

He hadn't thought about an _actual_ drink in a long time.

[oOo]

_They fell into a routine. He made a general nuisance of himself: pulled pranks, jumped out from behind doors, set whoopee cushions in all the right places. Not like that was unusual, really. He pranked and punned everyone in a five mile radius. But for her, he did the whole shebang. Tested her patience. He thought he might have pushed her over the edge with the glitter, but just the other day she quipped about sparkly vampires and how she supposed she needed to join the dregs of the undead. She laughed. And joked. And she _liked_ his puns. Her smiling façade never cracked as she played along, even when he was quietly unreasonable. Was she patient? Or just biding her time before striking? Whittling away at his defenses?_

_It had to be an act… right? The Anomaly couldn't be so… well-adjusted and normal and kind and…_

_…and _good?

_No, that couldn't be it. Anyone could fake a smile._

_Sans hadn't really spoken to her at length since she arrived. Sure, the three of them usually shared dinner, but with Papyrus home dinner topics were limited to tame and ordinary subject matter. And she never strayed away from "safe" topics. Not that Sans minded. Hell, he preferred it._

[oOo]

The old books helped. Two thick, sturdy volumes. Sans patted one of the tomes absently before he removed a single folder from one of the desk drawers. It was already filled with several pages' worth of notes. Everything he could think of on the Anomaly in general… and then a few pages now devoted to the woman called Lumena. They were filling slowly with observations. Details.

Or a disturbing lack thereof.

…

_**CASE FILE  
**__[The Anomaly]  
__**HP:** Unknown  
__**LV:** Unknown  
__**EXP:** Unknown  
__**SOUL:** Unknown_

**_[Entry 1]_**

_Soul Color. Unknown._

_Does it even possess a Soul? Is that the aura I feel? With no way to see its Stats or Judge a Soul… what should I even do? Give it a chance?_

_Never pulled something living through TADaS before. If it's even alive. If something without a Soul can even live._

_Its responses are measured. It seems to take everything it sees in stride. And it plays along, pretending it is human, acting like this is new._

_I made sure it knew. I brought it here. It must never know the machine malfunctioned. It must believe I have the power to do as I please. If its fear is at all genuine, perhaps I can control it. It may be the only power I have against something like it._

…

He wasn't sure fear was the answer anymore.

[oOo]

_She discovered the old piano. For the first time, she expressed something beyond a chuckle or sideways glance: elation. Her eyes sparkled and she looked _alive._ For the first time, he saw something… fractured. Sans didn't understand why she flinched under Papyrus's unabashed praise. But she smiled anyway. She always smiled._

_…_

_He hated her smile._

_…_

_He kept trying to convince himself everything she did was an act. Kept trying to spot the lie in her eyes, to fault her when she laughed, to dismiss her poor efforts to pun back (she wasn't good, but he could respect her effort). He kept trying to tell himself she shouldn't exist like this (and he could still feel how wrong she was). Kept trying to convince himself she needed to be kept at a careful distance._

_And then that night she looked so sad, shattered behind her smile, in a way even the best actor could never imitate. And he thought maybe he could do something about it. _Should_ do something about it._

_He made her smile._

[oOo]

Sans jotted down another quick note, snapped the folder closed, and shoved it back into the desk drawer before he stood and stretched his spine, hands on his pelvis. Joints popped and clicked back into place. With a soft huff, he gathered up his hoodie and slung his arms into it. _Time to call it quits._

The Anomaly—Lumena—was an issue. Not because she was _here._ But because she was actually _likable._ He'd flung up every wall he could. When did he have to start telling himself she _wasn't human?_ Sure, Sans had people he didn't like, people who were genuinely detestable, but it wasn't like this. He'd never tried so hard to force himself to dislike anyone… and it made his metaphorical gut twist.

[oOo]

_The Anomaly… a _human.

How_ human? She didn't _feel_ human, but everything else his senses told him seemed contrary._

_It was getting harder and harder for him to believe she could be dangerous, but he couldn't afford to let his guard drop. Maybe if he nudged her, she'd fight back. She'd give him a reason. Justify his actions._

_The first time she left the Manor on her own he made sure it wouldn't be a wasted opportunity to see how she acted beyond the house._

_…what was she up to? She was _off_ this morning. Just enough to get his attention. Was she okay?_

_He didn't need to hound her every step, but he trailed her, met her half-way. He had more to say. More barbs. But she stopped, walled off, her smile a shield. So he teased and treated, and took her to Grillby's. Though her eyes flickered caution, she never questioned his intentions for a moment. Trusting. Too trusting. And Sans felt like scum for taking advantage, because he had to. He had to see what she'd do. Didn't he?_

_…_

_So he walked with her, provided himself ample time to observe._

_…he wasn't sure about that motorcycle incident though._

_For a flash he considered what might happen if he let her get hit. Would the world reset to save her? He couldn't risk it, wouldn't let it happen. He swore the guy _actually _swerved toward her. The nerve! Besides, she was actually funny. And fun to be it was done, he couldn't help noticing how her fingers trembled even as she smiled at him. She'd been afraid for her life._

_…_

_In spite of the fond recognition in her eyes (the same he'd seen when she first met him _in the flesh_), something about the bar made her nervous._

[oOo]

She did the chores, went above and beyond upstairs, and… she kept busy. He was no longer certain if Lumena was unfailingly polite or just an extreme doormat. It irked him. Didn't she know people like that just _begged_ to be used, just like Pap–

_No. No, don't compare her to–_

She _smiled_. Even after what he said at Grillby's. She smiled too much. It was one thing to fake a smile. Another to fake the despair it failed to hide. Sans hated it.

He hated how that smile was almost enough to convince him she'd told him the truth. _Just a girl from the Midwest, huh?_

Sans hesitated, caught his reflection in the machine's dark screen.

_Smiling. He always smiled._ _Had to, didn't he?_

…

Sans stalked out of the workshop.

…

Observe. Learn. Put the pieces together. He was a scientist. That's what he did. That was how this _worked_. He had to be objective, watchful, and he had to keep learning. And he learned more about her everyday. Just never the reason for her smile… or the reason someone who seemed so kind would devour an entire timeline.

[oOo]

_He'd built up walls for a reason. But she was _reasonable_ and _sensible_. And a hopeless, romantic, idealist. An artist. Gentle, responsible. Like Papyrus._

_No, no. He couldn't go comparing her to someone so special as his brother. Someone so innocent and wonderful and– and–_

Not the Anomaly.

_He wasn't supposed to _like_ her._

_But after nearly three weeks, she seemed patient. Kind. Her actions indicated a quiet integrity… it just didn't _add up!_ The Anomaly devoured timelines. The Anomaly erased them. Removed them. Changed them. The Anomaly couldn't be so… so _human.

_He had to close himself off. He had to. He had to convince himself again. Remind himself._

_Humans had emotions. Feelings. Fears. She was afraid of him. (He still found the idea ironic.) __Did she really think adding general humanness to something with god-like power was good? As if being human, complete with their tangled motivations and flaws could help her case. Could convince him she couldn't be dangerous._

_He should have stopped with his first question. Shouldn't have let his personal feelings color his words so strongly. He shouldn't have been so harsh._

_In retrospect, perhaps poking the hornets' nest wasn't a good idea. But after seeing how it played out…_

_He thought at best she'd get _angry_. Almost hoped she'd argue back. It'd been a loaded statement, after all. She didn't. And her face… it was like a kick to his Soul._

_She didn't get angry. She didn't yell. She didn't even cry._

_…_

_She _smiled_._

_He didn't always like humans, but he didn't mean to–_

_It was just… hypothetical. Yeah. That was it._

_Why couldn't she just… _show some backbone?

_He left as quickly as he could. What had he just done? Why did he even care?_

[oOo]

_Now…_  
_It wasn't supposed to rain._ Sans clawed absently at his ribcage, eye lights hazy and unfocused. _What a day._

He didn't miss the panic on her face when she arrived home with his brother. Two weeks ago he would have felt immensely satisfied to know his warnings had sunk in. She paid attention. Knew when he closed his _other_ eye it meant a bad time. She was scared of li'l ol' Sans. But something else had been trying to bury itself into his marrow all day. It started at Grillby's the moment the words left his teeth. Now it gripped him firmly by the Soul, cold, ugly, and altogether unwanted. "Hold on, Lu–"

But she didn't hear or chose not to listen as she ran up the stairs.

Papyrus cleared his throat. Loudly.

Sans turned to his brother, sockets wide, and offered a placating grin.

It didn't work.

[oOo]

Sans didn't realize what a quiet fixture she'd become. He glanced at the empty chair—the one in the corner where she usually sat—and had every night since she'd arrived. He didn't think he'd feel the absence like he did. Papyrus sat in silence across from him. The tall skeleton's silverware scraped on his plate as he stabbed at his carryout, wrapping the noodles around his fork with unnecessary ferocity.

Sans took a tentative bite of his pizza, eye lights darting up to his brother every few minutes to see if there was any change in Papyrus's steely demeanor. His puns weren't landing. Papyrus gave him nothing, not even an annoyed huff or an eye roll. _At least Lu woulda laughed. Probably._

He almost scoffed at the treacherous thought. How had Papyrus become so fond of her so quickly? Sans knew the answer, he just didn't like it. Lu really wasn't… unlikable. _Makes my job that much harder._

He finished his pizza and wiped his greasy hands on his shirt. Papyrus stabbed another forkful of noodles between his teeth.

"Couldn't help noticing… you, uh, seem upset, Papyrus," Sans ventured.

The sound of bone meeting metal was _not_ a pleasant one, and Sans grimaced as he met his brother's glare. Papyrus's sockets looked like they wanted to pop out of his skull.

If he'd had a throat, Sans would have gulped. His hands met the edge of the dinner table instead, and twitched uneasily as he rubbed his phalanges into the wood.

Papyrus removed the fork from his mouth slowly—Sans pretended not to notice the new dent in the metal—and set it down with an impressive amount of control. "Me? Oh no. I'm not upset AT. ALL."

Sans cringed. _Hohboy. He's pissed._ "Eh. Well. That's good, 'cause I could've sworn something was bothering you."

A dark looked crossed Papyrus's face. The sort of look Sans wouldn't grace with a description. His shoulders hunched in preparation for the unavoidable tirade.

"I JUST THINK–"

_Ah, here it comes._

"–MAYBE–"

_The moment of truth._

"–YOU OWE SOMEONE–"

_…yeah._

"–AN APOLOGY!"

Sans puffed, strained to keep his smile up. "Oh? That all?" His fingers twitched. Papyrus didn't know the half of it. And no way could Sans tell him the truth. Not now.

Papyrus looked like he wanted to smack his plate over Sans's skull. Thankfully he didn't. "Maybe YOU should TALK to her. SHE is upset. I would be upset TOO if I thought someone HATED ME FOR NO REASON!"

It took everything Sans had not to flinch.

…

"…I don't, Paps." _It's not for no reason._

But, maybe, it wasn't for a good one.

Papyrus definitely hadn't been pleased to find the human walking in the rain. But he _had_ found her. Picked her up. Brought her back to the Manor. Safe and sound.

…just like Sans knew he would when he left that voicemail.

Papyrus didn't understand why Sans would welcome a little human refugee, then make it clear he _didn't like them. _Then Papyrus went on about why humans and monsters needed to get along. On why it was important for every monster to do their part alongside humans… and then he had to bring up Frisk.

Sans never _loved_ humans. Not until Frisk. And even then, he had his reservations. He knew Frisk didn't tell him everything that happened Underground. Still, Frisk was such an integral part of their lives. Frisk was _his_ kid. And of course he _knew._ He knew not all humans were petty and cruel. Frisk wasn't. And he doubted the reasons behind the war were caused by anything so tiny as, say, an _aside glance_.

Sans finally managed to calm his brother enough to remind him it was Friday—movie night—so why not watch something, like always. Pretend it was all right, for a little while anyway.

[oOo]

_Most Fridays the brothers made a point of spending the evening together on the couch, eating carry out and popcorn. Usually, the night ended with Sans fast asleep and Papyrus thoughtful. Not tonight. Papyrus didn't let up._

_Papyrus's words played on repeat in Sans's head._

_"She's only got us, Sans. She's alone!" He pointed out. Sans didn't need the reminder. "What if we don't find her family? You ARE still looking, aren't you? Or did you decide you didn't like looking for them today just like you don't like humans today either?"_

_Papyrus figured her family had to be out there for her, just… lost in the storm. A lot of humans—and monsters—were. Sans had gone so far as to warn Papyrus a week ago he wouldn't find Lu's family. Still, Sans pretended to look, even knowing he'd find nothing. He didn't have a surname to work with, even if he did search for real. She never gave him one._

_Of course, Papyrus did the dutiful thing and insisted Sans continue searching. Papyrus was cool like that. And Sans knew his brother would continue poking and prodding until he was certain the humans were nowhere to be found. Sans rubbed his palms against his sockets, running them over his temple before releasing a strangled groan. In any other situation, Sans might have found his brother's resolve endearing. In this case, it was a problem._

_"That isn't the sort of thing you say to a datemate–"_

_Sans rubbed his fingers against his temples and sighed. "Paps it wasn't a–"_

_"That isn't the sort of thing you say to a friend–"_

_"Friend? Paps she's–" not human. Sans scoffed._

_…and it certainly wasn't the sort of thing you said to little humans who'd lost their families. Or hadn't Sans already learned that once?_

_Sans wanted to pretend this was a normal night. Was that too much to ask for?_

_Papyrus had always been an emotions-on-his-sleeves sort of skeleton…_

_Their first official movie night in two weeks, and when the movie ended Papyrus huffed something about how "It would have been better if Lumena watched it with us" before he stalked off to bed. Go figure._

[oOo]

That was hours ago.

…

Sans slumped alone on the couch, eyes fixed unseeing on the TV screen. The flickering light was the only illumination in the small living room. Mettaton reruns… some sort of western. Everybody's favorite rectangle wore a cowboy hat and swung a lasso at a mechanical bull. The robot spoke with an exaggerated Texan accent.

Sans figured he'd sleep on the couch tonight, unless he managed to motivate himself to head up to his own bedroom. _'Course, Paps'll give me hell if he finds me on the couch. Again._ He'd only gotten up once, and that was to grab a dark bottle he'd concealed in a paper bag at the back of the fridge, far from Papyrus's prying eyes. It was one thing to drink at Grillby's… but Papyrus had never been fond of Sans bringing the habit home. He did _not_ need to add to the list of reasons Papyrus currently wanted to strangle him. He'd hide the bottle later. Sans took a swig and sighed, dragging an arm along his teeth to catch some of the alcohol as it dribbled.

He still couldn't get Papyrus's words out of his head.

…

Lumena was not _human_. (How many times was this? How many times had he tried to convince himself? And he _still_ tried, even after what she said at Grillby's. She talked about hopes, dreams, a world beyond this one. She spoke of… friends. A life far away from the social isolation Sans imagined a faceless Anomaly would have.)

Sans sank into the cushions, chin tucked against his chest. He tried his best to pretend he didn't feel the guilt gnawing at the back of his mind. He buried himself in his favorite hoodie… as if it could shield him from the unwanted feeling. Apparently she'd been more upset than she'd let on. She hid behind that smile, pretended she wasn't hurt, wasn't sensitive. Why didn't she fight harder? At least Papyrus had gotten better at standing up for himself. He certainly stood up to Sans more than he used to.

And there he went comparing her to someone he loved again. Someone likable and caring and altogether too good for this world. _Heh. If the Anomaly were like Paps… wow, what would_ he _do with a power like that? _But then, she _wasn't_ like his brother. Sans could steamroll over her with a comment, a glance, a word. _She barely even defended herself._

She knew he was capable of more than he ever let on… and it scared her. At first, Sans had been pleased with the idea. Now… he wasn't so sure. It certainly hadn't been satisfaction he'd felt earlier when she came through the door with Papyrus. She looked tired. Sad. She tried to smile, but… it missed its mark this time.

Sans rolled his eyes as Mettaton took the lead actor into his arms and spewed some melodramatic nonsense. "We were made to be together," the lead told his lover. Sans didn't see the appeal… and it wasn't enough to distract him. Not tonight. He huffed and shifted again.

The old couch was a bit lumpy at this point in its storied history, but he couldn't bring himself to get a new one. …even though one particularly lumpy lump decided to push right into the middle of his spine. He turned to give the cushion a harder-than-necessary punch.

There. That was better.

_Kid didn't even come down for dinner._

…

He couldn't take back the words he'd left hanging in the air at Grillby's.

She'd taken the moral high ground.

Sans liked to think he saw things the way they were. He was Judge, after all. He knew the world could be an ugly place. It didn't need more people contributing to that ugly.

…and she hadn't. She could've, and she didn't. She made a deliberate choice. An effort. It was clear from the look on her face it _hurt._ What he said _hurt._ He wasn't even sure anymore if he'd been trying to hurt _her_ or… figure her out somehow. And now he had to smooth over yet another problem. One he'd created. _Again._ Because his Anomaly was, apparently, an emotional creature. Stars, he just wished she could go back to being something abstract. Now she was too real.

He couldn't get her crestfallen expression out of his head.

Sans sighed and rubbed the back of his hand absently across his cheekbone. He knew why he hated her smile. It was like looking in a mirror. Sadder than his though, less refined. Small and so fixed into place it appeared unbidden, a shield to hide behind, even when she was unaware.

He had to close himself off. He had to. He couldn't afford to drop his defenses. But this afternoon he _had. _He'd laughed and joked, and he'd let himself _forget._ He caught a glimpse of a wide-eyed idealist who thought, once upon a time, she could change the world (…_and_, he supposed bitterly, _she had._).

He didn't mean to lash out.

He was starting to think she might be more on the "sheep" end of his "wolf in sheep's clothing" theory. But however he tried he couldn't find any fangs or claws.

…

Sans decided he was not a very good shepherd.

…

He couldn't take the words back, couldn't stand the look on her face. It was hypothetical. _But ya didn't say that, did you?_

He could justify himself a hundred different ways. Wouldn't make it right. Wouldn't make it okay. And he had a feeling he'd be making up for it for a while yet.

A commercial came on, volume too low to make anything out. The point wasn't to listen, anyway; he settled down on his back and left the bottle on the floor. It wobbled and he hastened to steady it—he didn't want to explain another stain on the carpet. His arms pillowed the back of his head as his fingers scraped slowly along the back of his skull, the sound of bone-on-bone a small comfort.

Papyrus wanted him to apologize. Wanted him to… what? _Make it up to her?_

Sans had never been good at emotions. But, Anomaly or no, she had a human side that influenced her choices. And he may have unintentionally caused harm.

He'd seen her act and treat his brother with kindness. And him, too.

…

She didn't have anyone. Just… them.

…

She had no family here. She didn't belong here.

Sans sighed. He'd have to apologize. He hated when Papyrus was right.

…

He wanted to be angry. He wanted to blame her for Papyrus's foul mood… but he couldn't. He couldn't, not when he knew the only reason she'd been caught out like she had was because of him. Because he left.

Sans never anticipated the guilt. The sooner he got rid of it, the better. He wanted this issue done and gone. But… part of him was glad he didn't have to deal with it tonight.

He didn't remember falling asleep. But he did remember the nightmare that woke him in the wee hours of the morning, before Paps ever awakened. _Haven't had one like that in a while…_ he shuddered. Once Sans gathered himself, he picked up his discarded bottle, turned off the TV, and figured he'd work on the machine until Papyrus woke up. Maybe he'd have breakfast with his brother for a change.


End file.
